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OLD  BOSTON 
MUSEUM  DAYS 


KATE  RYAN 


The  Old  Corner   Book 
Store,  Inc. 


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OLD    BOSTON    MUSEUM    DAYS 


Kate  Ryan.      Frontispiece 


OLD 
BOSTON   MUSEUM 

DAYS 


BY 


KATE    RYAN 


WITH   NUMEROUS   ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM   PHOTOGRAPHS 


NON-REFERT 

1/5 


aQVMVAtFQJS 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,   BROWN,    AND    COMPANY 

1915 


Copyright,  igij, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  October,  1915. 


Nortoooti  Pnes 
Set  up  and  electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Cushing  Co.,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


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I    DEDICATE    THIS    LITTLE     BOOK 

<  TO    MY    GRANDCHILDREN 

K 

KATHERINE  AND  WALTON   McDANIEL 
►J 

BUT    FOR    WHOSE    EARNEST    ENCOURAGEMENT    IT 

WOULD   NOT    HAVE    BEEN    WRITTEN.      I   AM 
CD 
££  DEEPLY    GRATEFUL    FOR    THEIR 


INSPIRING    INTEREST 


'  *  « 


FOREWORD 

In  writing  this  little  volume,  I  have  lived 
over  again  the  days  of  the  Old  Museum,  and 
as  I  recalled  the  faces  and  forms  that  peopled 
the  stage  of  that  famous  old  playhouse,  I  must 
confess  to  moments  of  sorrow  recompensed  by 
hours  of  joy.  I  doubt  that  even  the  most  phil- 
osophical spirit,  with  never  a  tear  or  a  regret 
for  the  past,  could  delve  into  its  recesses  as  I 
have  done,  without  a  longing  for  the  Old  Mu- 
seum days  that  are  gone.  Yet  the  memory  of 
those  days  will  leave,  for  all  time,  something 
of  value  to  remember  and  cherish. 

I  have  no  desire  to  pass  dramatic  criticism 
on  the  individual  merits  of  my  associates,  whose 
labors  dignified  either  tragedy  or  comedy,  nor 
to  draw  comparison  between  the  past  and  pres- 
ent.    I    wish    merely   to    express   a   few    loving 

vii 


FOREWORD 

thoughts  as  I  feel  them.  I  wish  to  send  forth 
as  "a  song  in  the  rain  "  the  glad  message  that 
there  still  exists  in  the  hearts  of  old  Bostonians 
tender  memories  of  that  golden  time  —  Old 
Boston  Museum  days  of  our  fathers  and  our 
forefathers. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  volume,  I  wish 
gratefully  to  acknowledge  thanks  to  Mr.  James 
Burrows  and  Mr.  John  Bouve  Clapp  for  their 
kindly  assistance,  and  also  to  Mr.  Robert  Gould 
Shaw  for  the  use  of  many  photographs. 

KATE   RYAN. 
August,  191 5. 


vin 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

Foreword       ..... 

1.  Early   History  of  the   Boston   Museum 

II.  My   First   Visit  to  the   Boston   Museum 

III.  William   Warren    . 

IV.  Mrs.   J.    R.    Vincent 
V.  Miss  Annie   M.    Clarke  . 

VI.  Charles   Barron 

VII.  Salad   Days    . 

VIII.  Three   Comedians    . 

IX.  The  Two    Reliables 

X.  "Pinafore"    Days 

XI.  Famous   Stars 

XII.  The  Younger    Generation 

XIII.  Yesterday  and  To-day    . 
Index     .... 


vii 

I 

9 

25 

44 

63 

80 

91 

117 

136 

158 

173 

205 

239 

251 

IX 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


ing  Batkins 


Kate  Ryan  .... 

The  Boston  Museum  in  1876 

The  Boston  Museum  in  1903 

Moses  Kimball     . 

Manager  R.  M.  Field 

Kate  Ryan  in  1872 

Kate  Ryan  in  1886 

William  Warren  . 

Warren  as  "  Jefferson  Scatter 

Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent 

Annie  M.  Clarke  as  "  Peg  Woffington  ' 

W.  Wilson  as  «  Triplet  " 
Charles  Barron 
Annie  M.  Clarke 
James  Nolan 
William  J.  LeMoyne 
George  W.  Wilson 
James  H.  Ring     . 
J.  A.  Smith 
fames  R.  Pitman 
James  Burrows 
Sadie  Martinot  as  "  Hebe  " 


Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

4 

4 
8 

8 

20 
20 

3° 
3° 
58 


and  George 


66 
88 
88 

104 
104 
124 
124 
124 
144 
144 
160 


XI 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING   PAGE 

Rose  Temple  as  " 

Ralph  Rackstraw  " 

l60 

Lizzie  Harold  as  " 

Little  Buttercup" 

l60 

Dion  Boucicault  . 

•                    •                    • 

186 

Edwin  Booth 

•                    •                    • 

186 

Richard  Mansfield 

•                    •                    • 

186 

The  Boston  Museum  Stock  Company, 

1889- 

[89O 

206 

William  Seymour 

•                    •                    • 

,       210 

John  Mason 

•                                        •                                        0 

.       2IO 

Miriam  O'Leary  . 

•                                                •                                               0 

.       224 

Joseph  Haworth  . 

•                      •                      • 

.       224 

Marie  Burress 

•                      •                      • 

.       224 

Xll 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM 

DAYS 

CHAPTER   I 

Early  History  of  the  Boston  Museum 

MR.  MOSES  KIMBALL,  founder  of  the 
Boston  Museum,  was  for  fifty  years  a 
familiar  and  picturesque  figure  in  the  life  of 
Boston.  Born  in  Newburyport,  Massachusetts, 
in  1809,  he  came  of  good,  old,  Puritanical  stock, 
and  at  the  age  of  fourteen  went  to  Boston  to 
seek  his  fortune  and  enter  upon  the  active 
scenes  of  life.  He  had  his  ups  and  downs, 
winning  and  losing,  and  passing  through  many 
vicissitudes.  When  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
with  the  aid  of  his  brother  David,  he  bought 

I 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

the  greater  part  of  the  collections  of  the  old 
New  England  Museum  on  Court  Street  which 
was  then  breaking  up.  As  he  was  about  to 
have  the  curiosities  moved  to  another  building, 
then  in  course  of  erection  on  the  corner  of 
Bromfield  and  Tremont  Streets,  the  contractor 
failed,  work  on  the  structure  stopped,  and  the 
building  remained  roofless  for  nearly  a  year. 
In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Kimball  took  his  curiosi- 
ties to  Lowell,  Massachusetts.  The  following 
year  the  new  building  was  completed,  so  he 
brought  his  collections  back  to  Boston,  and 
the  Boston  Museum  and  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts, 
as  it  was  called  in  the  early  days,  opened  its 
doors  for  the  first  time  on  June  14,  1841. 

The  structure  was  modest  in  design.  The 
Auditorium  was  at  the  top  of  the  building,  and 
was  reached  by  two  flights  of  rickety,  break- 
neck stairs.  The  entire  lighting  was  by  oil 
lamps.  At  the  door  was  placed  a  huge  stump 
of  a  tree,  concaved  on  top,  to  form  a  receptacle 
for  programs,   to  which  visitors   helped   them- 

2 


EARLY  HISTORY 

selves.  Rows  of  rude  benches  served  the  spec- 
tators for  seats.  There  were  no  uniformed 
ushers,  nor  were  there  dainty  maidens  —  save 
the  mark  —  flitting  up  and  down  the  aisles, 
to  direct  our  grandsires  to  their  places. 

The  form  of  entertainment  was  very  simple 
in  those  days.  Theatrical  entertainments  were 
not  permitted  there,  so  the  Boston  Museum 
and  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts  was  primarily  a  mu- 
seum of  curiosities,  with  a  platform  enter- 
tainment which  all  good  people  could  go  to 
see ;  if  they  wished,  they  could  also  stay  and 
hear  the  musical  olio,  consisting  of  solos  on 
glass  bells,  and  birch-bark  whistling.  This 
form  of  entertainment  was  not  considered 
ungodly,  if  taken  as  a  side  issue  with  per- 
forming elephants  or  trick  canaries.  All  the 
stars  of  the  vaudeville  world  of  that  day  were 
connected  with  the  platform  entertainment  at 
various  times.  In  point  of  fact,  the  so-called 
vaudeville  idea  was  Americanized  at  the  Boston 
Museum.     This  showed  the  foresight  of  Moses 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

Kimball,  and  when  I  see  the  blaze  of  electricity 
in  front  of  the  theaters  and  amusement  places 
of  to-day,  I  can  see  where  Mr.  Kimball  antici- 
pated all  that  kind  of  advertising  when  he  put 
the  rows  of  white-globed  lights  in  front  of  the 
Boston  Museum. 

The  first  dramatic  entertainment  given  in 
the  Boston  Museum  occurred  in  1843,  and  it 
proved  successful  from  the  start.  The  au- 
dience grew  so  rapidly  that  the  old  Museum 
was  not  adequate,  so  in  1846,  the  famous  play- 
house that  many  of  us  remember  as  the  joy  of 
our  childhood  was  erected  on  Tremont  Street, 
between  School  and  Court  Streets,  and  from 
that  time  it  became  a  Boston  institution. 

It  was  carried  on  successfully,  without  a 
break,  for  nearly  fifty  years,  often  against 
powerful  competition.  I  doubt  if  any  other 
theater  in  this  country  existed  with  such  un- 
deviating  prosperity  for  such  a  long  period  of 
time.  Think  of  it !  A  stock  company  system 
for  nearly  fifty  years !     A  meeting-place  where 

4 


The   Boston  Museum   in  1876 


Copyright,  1905,  by  N.  L.  Stebbins. 

The    Boston    Museum    in    1903 


EARLY  HISTORY 

those  who  did  not  wish  to  be  regarded  as 
theatergoers  could  visit  without  a  blush,  — 
many  of  the  regular  habitues  of  the  Boston 
Museum,  even  after  it  had  become  much  more 
of  a  theater  than  a  museum,  fondly  believed  they 
were  not  attending  a  regular  playhouse. 

William  H.  Smith,  the  first  stage  manager, 
was  an  able,  scholarly,  and  sterling  actor.  The 
members  of  the  Company  at  that  time  were 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thoman,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Germon, 
Thomas  Comer,  C.  W.  Hunt,  G.  H.  Wyeth, 
C.  H.  Saunders,  and  Adelaide  Phillips,  who 
began  her  career  as  a  child  dancer,  doing  nautical 
hornpipes  between  the  acts.  She  was  billed 
as  "The  Child  of  Avon"  and  was  then  nine 
years  old. 

Very  careful  attention  was  given  to  the 
selection  of  plays.  The  moral  feature  of  the 
play  was  largely  advertised  on  the  bill,  which 
contained  also  an  offer  of  one  hundred  dollars 
for  the  best  moral  drama  adapted  to  the  uses 
of  the  Museum  Stock  Company. 

5 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

About  that  time  "The  Drunkard,"  or  "The 
Fallen  Saved"  was  produced  with  great  suc- 
cess. Mrs.  Germon  in  an  interview  said  that 
she  played  the  wife  of  the  "drunkard"  for 
one  hundred  consecutive  nights,  and  on  one 
occasion,  when  there  was  a  vigorous,  temper- 
ance demonstration  in  town,  the  play  was 
given  five  times  in  one  day. 

The  dramatic  entertainment,  with  selections 
between  the  acts,  and  the  instructive  exhibi- 
tion in  the  Curio  Halls,  was  offered  to  the 
public  for  twenty-five  cents,  "without  age  or 
distinction,"  according  to  the  program. 

Mr.  Kimball  practically  retired  from  man- 
agerial duties  in  i860,  because  of  his  interest 
in  State  affairs,  —  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Legislature.  His  most  important  services  to 
the  city  were  on  the  various  boards  of 
charitable  and  kindred  societies.  In  1879  ne 
commissioned  the  sculptor,  Thomas  Ball,  to 
make  a  replica  of  his  bronze  group  emblematic 
of   Emancipation,   which   had   been   set   up   in 

6 


EARLY  HISTORY 

Washington.  Mr.  Kimball  presented  this 
duplicate  to  the  city  of  Boston,  and  it  was 
placed  in  Park  Square. 

Among  the  notable  artists  appearing  at  the 
Boston  Museum  from  1850  to  1872  were 
Charlotte  Cushman,  Mrs.  E.  L.  Davenport, 
Barry  Sullivan,  James  W.  Wallack,  George 
VandenhofF,  Mrs.  Farren,  Eliza  Logan,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Waller,  Edwin  Adams,  the  elder 
Booth,  and  his  son  Edwin  Booth  —  who  made 
his  debut  at  the  Museum  in  1849,  playing 
Tressel  to  his  father's  Richard  III,  —  Mathilda 
Heron,  Kate  Reignolds,  Josie  Orton,  Agnes 
Robertson,  wife  of  Dion  Boucicault,  L.  R. 
Shewell,  Walter  Montgomery,  Rose  Skerritt, 
Mrs.  Judah,  C.  W.  Couldock,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Conway,  E.  F.  Keach,  Mrs.  George  H.  Barrett, 
Mrs.  Barrow,  Peter  and  Caroline  Richings, 
John  Wilson,  husband  of  Mrs.  Vincent,  Kate 
Denin,  Charlotte  Thompson,  Mrs.  John  Drew, 
—  all  shining  lights  whom  I  regret  to  say  I 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  or  meeting. 

7 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

Until  a  few  years  before  his  death,  Moses 
Kimball  retained  proprietorship  and  control 
of  the  Boston  Museum.  The  management  of 
its  affairs  was  in  the  able  hands  of  Mr.  R.  M. 
Field,  but  always  under  the  vigilant  supervi- 
sion of  Mr.  Kimball,  who  was  energetic  and 
vigorous  till  the  end.  He  died  at  the  age  of 
eighty-six,  in  the  year  1895,  at  his  home  in 
Brookline,  Massachusetts. 


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C/3 


CHAPTER   II 

My  First  Visit  to  the  Boston  Museum 

1  BEGAN  my  career  at  the  Boston  Museum 
in  1872,  and  from  that  time  until  its  close, 
in  1893,  remained  a  member  of  the  Company. 
I  am  forced  from  now  on  to  talk  about  myself, 
so  that  I  may  bring  the  reader  more  intimately 
into  touch  with  the  distinguished  men  and 
women  with  whom  I  was  associated  for  more 
than  twenty  years. 

My  own  stage  life  has  been  comparatively 
uneventful  as  my  entire  theatrical  career,  with 
the  exception  of  occasional  short  engagements, 
has  been  in  Boston.  I  was  born  on  Hanover 
Street,  at  the  North  End,  right  around  the 
corner  from  the  Cushman  School,  and  by  a 
happy  chance,  on  Shakespeare's  birthday,  April 

23,  1857. 

9 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

My  family  did  not  approve  of  the  playhouse, 
and  before  I  made  my  first  appearance,  they 
knew  very  little  of  the  "make-believe"  world. 
My  first  recollection  of  plays  of  any  kind  is  of 
a  Punch  and  Judy  show,  given  on  Boston 
Common.  Before  I  went  on  the  stage,  I  had 
been  inside  a  theater  just  once ;  that,  curiously 
enough,  was  the  Boston  Museum,  and  the  first 
play  I  saw  was  "The  School  for  Scandal."  It 
was  in  this  play  that  I  made  my  first  appear- 
ance the  following  season. 

It  was  merely  by  chance  that  I  went  to  the 
theater  that  single  time.  I  started  out  one 
evening  to  go  to  a  Sunday  School  concert  at 
Horticultural  Hall  with  one  of  the  teachers. 
We  were  late  and,  as  she  was  either  too  proud 
or  too  diffident  to  go  in  after  the  concert  had 
begun,  she  played  truant,  and  took  me  to  the 
Boston  Museum.  My  mother,  who  never 
failed  to  attend  affairs  connected  with  the 
church,  was  unable  to  go  on  that  evening,  else  I 
should  not  have  had  that  delightful  experience. 

10 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON   MUSEUM 

It  was  all  so  beautiful !  Even  the  large  blue 
pasteboard  ticket,  marked  fifteen  cents,  which 
admitted  me  to  the  gallery !  And  the  or- 
chestra !  I  can  almost  hear  it  now.  Never 
was  music  like  it  since !  Oh !  it  was  all  so 
joyous.  And  the  curtain !  How  I  enjoyed  the 
picture.  It  represented  a  little  black  boy  perched 
on  a  wall,  and  he  seemed  to  be  grinning  and  nod- 
ding at  me,  and  I  grinned  back  and  nodded  my 
head  and  kicked  my  feet  in  time  with  the  music. 
Electric  lights  never  will  be  so  bright  as  were 
those  brilliant  gas  lights  on  that  night. 

I  remember  I  sat  far,  far  up  in  the  gallery, 
and  the  whole  performance  was  as  unreal  as 
a  dream.  Mrs.  Vincent,  who  played  Mrs. 
Candour,  I  remember,  struck  me  as  being  very 
funny ;  she  seemed  like  a  lovely,  chubby  doll. 
Then,  too,  the  scandal  scene  amused  me  ex- 
ceedingly. When  the  actors  laughed  on  the 
stage,  I  laughed  also.  When  I  saw  the  Punch 
and  Judy  show,  I  realized  that  the  characters 
were  marionettes,  and  I  looked  for  the  strings 

II 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

by  which  these  actors  were  worked.  But  when 
it  was  explained  to  me  that  these  actors  were 
real  people,  I  was  seriously  impressed.  From 
that  moment  I  was  stage-struck. 

You  may  remember  the  Sir  Peter  and  Lady 
Teazle  scene  in  the  school  reading-books  of 
that  time  ?  At  once  I  learned  the  scene  by 
heart  and,  barricaded  in  my  bedroom,  with  a 
sheet  for  a  train,  and  a  large  palm-leaf  fan 
in  my  hand,  I  recited  and  acted,  — -  playing 
both  parts  with  wonderful  satisfaction  to  my- 
self. I  could  think  of  nothing  else  but  the 
theater.  It  became  an  obsession.  I  saw  noth- 
ing but  a  brilliant  career  ahead  of  me. 

One  day,  a  short  time  after  that,  with  a 
throbbing  heart,  I  mounted  the  long  flight  of 
stairs  leading  to  the  box  office  of  the  Museum, 
and  there  I  made  known  my  ambition  to 
become  an  actress.  The  situation  being  some- 
what novel,  the  ticket-seller  was  amused  and, 
seeing  an  opportunity  for  a  joke,  he  sent  me  in 
pursuit  of  the  manager,  R.  M.  Field,  who  was 

12 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON   MUSEUM 

superintending   the    renovation   of   the   theater 
at  the  time. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  perilous  effort  in 
trying  to  reach  him.  Skipping  over  dug-up 
floors,  through  a  hopeless  chaos  of  debris,  at 
last  I  reached  the  man.  I  can  tell  you  I  was 
very  much  in  earnest.  I  know  I  said  a  number 
of  things  before  he  realized  I  was  there,  and 
not  until  I  tugged  at  his  coat  sleeve  and  had 
made  known  my  desire  to  become  an  actress, 
did  he  evince  any  interest  in  my  fifteen-year- 
old  self.  I  remember  his  attitude  was  not  a 
bit  encouraging. 

Can  you  sing?"  he  asked. 

No,  sir,"  I  said,  "but  I  can  learn." 

Can  you  dance  ?" 
"No,  sir,  but  I  can  learn." 
He  wasn't  much  impressed  with  my  willing- 
ness, and  concluded  that  there  was  no  place 
for  me  in  the  Museum,  and  hurriedly  disap- 
peared. But  my  heart  was  set  on  being  an 
actress,    and    I    followed   him    into   his   private 

13 


C( 


a 


a , 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

office,  resuming  again  my  earnest  appeal,  and 
impressing  upon  him  the  fact  that  I  should 
remain  until  he  granted  my  request !  My 
persistency  was  rewarded,  and  he  said  I  might 
report  for  rehearsal  the  next  Thursday  morning, 
the  opening  of  the  season.  Mr.  Field  was  so 
dignified  and  autocratic  that  my  childish 
persistency  and  pursuit  of  him  I  have  always 
remembered  as  a  funny  incident.  Let  me  tell 
you  that  later  I  avoided  him  as  diligently  as  I 
that  day  pursued  him. 

At  last  the  great  day  of  the  rehearsal  came, 
and  I  appeared  on  the  scene  an  hour  too  early 
for  the  appointment !  To  pass  the  time,  I 
decided  to  roam  through  the  corridors,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  the  childhood  joy  of  my 
first  peep  into  the  wonders  of  the  cases  that 
lined  the  corridors  of  the  Boston  Museum.  I 
especially  admired  the  case  where  Gulliver  and 
his  Lilliputian  tormentors  were,  and  I  must 
confess  that  long  after  I  had  become  a  grown- 
up, I  longed  to  linger  before  that  group. 

14 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON  MUSEUM 

At  last  I  found  myself  mounting  the  stairs 
to  the  Wax  Gallery.  There  were  very  few 
people  about,  and  I  recall  even  now  the  thrills 
of  pleasure  and  horror  I  experienced  as  I  looked 
into  the  cases.  The  schoolroom  amused  and 
interested  me.  The  wax  schoolmaster  was  so 
funny ;  and  the  scholars  had  such  little,  dis- 
torted, wax  faces ;  and  the  dunce,  with  his  cap 
of  wax,  looked  so  absurd  in  the  corner !  Oh ! 
the  creepy  feeling  of  horror  that  came  over  me 
as  I  looked  into  the  Pirates'  Cabin !  And  the 
different  chambers  where  the  ghastly  stages  of 
intemperance  were  displayed !  And  the  mas- 
sacre of  poor  Jane  McCrae  by  the  Indians ! 
Poor  Jane  looked  very  real,  besmeared  with 
sealing-wax  blood ! 

After  that  I  was  delighted  to  look  upon  jolly, 
fat  Daniel  Lambert,  sitting  so  comfortably  in 
his  big  easy-chair,  with  a  foaming  mug  of  ale. 
But  —  I  remember  that  the  cotton  batting 
foam  on  the  ale  was  very  dusty. 

I  have  been  told  that  the  best  of  the  natural 

15 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

history  specimens  were  sent  to  the  Natural 
History  Society,  but  no  one  really  knows  what 
has  become  of  the  wax  figures.  I  heard  that 
the  more  serious  groups  were  bought  by  a 
speculative  showman.  I  never  knew  of  their 
being  exhibited,  but  I  can't  help  wondering 
where  poor  Jane  McCrae  is. 

By  the  time  the  hour  had  arrived  for  my 
appointment  I  had  reached  the  stage  door.  After 
I  entered,  my  first  real  shock  came  from  the 
lack  of  regal  splendor.  I  expected  to  find  red 
velvet  carpets  and  gold  decorations.  It  was 
like  a  tomb  !  I  remember  the  stage  doorkeeper 
was  very  surly  on  that  occasion,  and  the  first 
realization  of  my  own  unimportance  came 
through  him. 

Following  his  brusque  directions,  I  wedged 
myself  through  aisles  of  dusty  scenery,  dis- 
arranging, to  my  disgust,  my  specially  prepared 
toilet.  There  is  something  in  the  feminine 
nature  which  makes  us  always  remember  what 
we  wore  on  any  eventful  occasion  of  our  lives, 

16 


FIRST  VISIT  TO   BOSTON   MUSEUM 

and  my  personal  appearance  on  this  first  visit 
is  still  vividly  pictured  in  my  mind. 

My  hair,  brown  and  curly,  was  unusually 
frizzed  for  that  occasion.  I  know  I  must  have 
looked  like  an  Albino.  I  wore  my  very  best 
starched  pique  dress,  bunched  out  with  layers 
and  layers  of  starched  petticoats,  reaching  to 
the  tops  of  my  adored  bronze  boots  with  tassels. 
Just  at  that  time  a  popular  song,  "Tassels  on 
Her  Boots,"  was  being  sung. 


a 


Tassels  on  her  boots, 

That's  the  style  that  suits 

The  Boston  girl  with  her  hair  in  curls 

And  tassels  on  her  boots." 


Finally  I  reached  the  stage.  My  first  rehearsal 
seemed  like  a  peep  into  fairyland.  It  was  all 
too  wonderful  to  be  true.  The  actors  were 
gathered  about  the  stage  in  groups  for  the 
entire  Company  had  been  called  to  report 
that  morning  after  a  summer  vacation.  They 
all  seemed  very  merry  and  glad  to  begin 
work.     The    play   was   "The   School  for  Scan- 

17 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

dal,"  and  I  made  my  first  appearance  as  a 
court  lady,  one  of  the  guests  in  the  scandal 
scene. 

My  first  stage  gown  gave  me  much  serious 
thought.  My  mother  assisted  me  in  the 
making  of  it,  despite  her  Puritanical  prejudice, 
and  when  the  gown  was  completed,  she  declared 
it  was  too  handsome  to  be  worn  in  the  play- 
house. It  was  composed  of  cretonne  beauti- 
fully flowered  (supposed  to  be  brocade),  with 
an  elaborate  court  train  over  a  quilted  petticoat 
of  (satin  finished)  cambric.  The  colors  were 
pale  blue  and  coral  pink,  and  the  whole  costume 
was  beautifully  trimmed  with  spangles.  It  had 
a  decidedly  pointed  bodice,  stiffly  boned,  a 
V-neck,  elbow  sleeves,  lace  frills,  powdered  wig, 
and  patches,  with  black  velvet  at  the  throat. 
To  complete  the  costume,  many  jewels  made  of 
colored  tinsel  were  worn.  I  carried  a  dainty 
fan  of  swansdown,  with  silver  paper  appliqued 
to  represent  a  vanity  mirror,  as  was  used  on 
fans  of  that  period ;    my  shoes  had  buckles  to 

18 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON  MUSEUM 

match.  The  costume  was  absolutely  correct  as 
to  detail,  and  its  memory  is  still  beautiful  to  me. 
Miss  Annie  Clarke  was  very  kind  and  helpful 
to  me  as  a  beginner.  I  remember  she  told  me 
many  stories  of  her  own  early  struggles.  She 
said  she  also  made  her  first  Lady  Teazle  gown 
herself,  cutting  it  out  after  the  matinee  on  a 
Saturday.  It  was  finished  after  she  reached 
home  at  night  (the  old-fashioned,  straight 
breadths  of  brocaded  satin  were  easily  stitched 
on  the  machine),  polished  off  on  Monday 
morning,  and  worn  on  Monday  night.  She 
said  that  often  she  sat  up  two  or  three  hours 
after  getting  home  from  the  play  at  night,  to 
put  in  fresh  laces  or  to  alter  a  gown  for  the  next 
night's  performance.  At  that  time  it  was  a 
common  thing  to  change  the  bill  daily,  but  the 
stage  costuming  was  much  simpler  than  now. 
The  heroines  in  old  comedies  did  well  to  dis- 
play one  fine  gown  in  a  play ;  nor  did  they  even 
dream  of  three  fine  gowns,  such  as  many 
actresses  are  called  upon  to  wear  nowadays. 

19 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

No  one  ever  secured  an  engagement  before 
or  since,  I  am  sure,  who  was  so  entirely  igno- 
rant of  everything  pertaining  to  the  stage.  I 
remember  "Richard  III"  was  to  be  played, 
and  I,  who  was  to  be  one  of  the  pages,  was  told 
to  provide  myself  with  a  pair  of  trunks.  I  was 
much  distressed.  One  trunk,  I  thought 
perhaps  I  could  get,  but  a  couple  of  them  was 
a  deal  too  much  to  ask.  Dear  Annie  Clarke 
took  me  aside  and  explained  that  trunks  were 
a  part  of  the  costume,  and  advised  me  to  get 
a  couple  of  yards  of  brown  cambric,  costing  ten 
cents,  and  she  would  devise  the  garment.  A 
very  much  distressed  girl  was  thus  made  happy. 
Miss  Clarke  was  always  doing  some  such  kindly 
thing. 

I  was  an  awful  nuisance.  I  failed  to  attend 
rehearsals  ;  I  thought  any  time  would  do.  And 
when  I  was  sharply  reprimanded  and  asked 
where  I  was,  I  meekly  answered,  "Oh,  just  at 
home." 

But  why  not  at  the  theater?" 

20 


u 


3C 


u 


c 

as 
>> 

V 

4-1 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON   MUSEUM 

"Well,  I  didn't  hear  anybody  tell  me  to  be 
there." 

"But  the  rehearsal  was  down  on  the  call. 
Why  didn't  you  look  at  the  call  board?" 

I  didn't  know  what  a  call  board  meant,  or 
that  all  actors,  before  leaving  the  theater,  are 
supposed    to    look   thereat   for   announcements. 

Mr.  Fred  Williams  was  stage  manager  at 
that  time,  and  I  shall  always  remember  him 
with  gratefulness.  He  overlooked  so  many  of 
my  faults,  and  he  treated  those  of  us  who  were 
in  the   ranks  with  courtesy  and  consideration. 

Mr.  Field,  a  dignified,  autocratic  gentleman, 
was  rarely  in  evidence.  He  never  interfered 
with  stage  directions,  yet  nothing  escaped  his 
ever-vigilant  eye.  He  was  quick  to  perceive 
merit,  and  never  failed  to  show  appreciation. 
Often  an  actor  would  find  an  extra  bill  in  his 
pay  envelope,  when  he  had  played  a  part  at 
short  notice. 

Mr.  Moses  Kimball,  the  founder  of  the 
Museum,   had  a  striking  personality.     He  im- 

21 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

pressed  me  as  being  very  fatherly  and  kind  and, 
with  his  long  beard,  he  looked  like  a  patriarch. 
I  remember  speaking  to  him  just  once. 
Shortly  after  joining  the  Company,  I  met  him 
in  the  corridor,  and  he  said  : 

"Well,  little  maiden,  I  suppose  you  expect  to 
be  an  actress  some  day?" 

I  was  somewhat  surprised,  and  said:  "Oh, 
sir,  I  am  one  now." 

He  laughed  good-naturedly,  and  merely  said  : 
"So?" 

The  members  in  the  Company,  when  I  joined 
it  in  August,  of  1872,  included:  William 
Warren,  Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent,  Annie  Clarke, 
Charles  Barron,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fred  Williams, 
Frank  Hardenberg,  Fanny  Marsh,  R.  F. 
McClannin,  his  wife,  Fanny  Skerritt,  James 
Nolan,  J.  A.  Smith,  J.  H.  Ring,  James  Burrows, 
E.  N.  Catlin,  J.  R.  Pitman,  Nate  Salsbury,  Frank 
Carlos,  R.  H.  Lucas,  H.  N.  Wilson,  W.  S.  Mason, 
Amy  Ames,  Margaret  Parker,  Nellie  Downing, 
Josie  Wright.    Miss  Watkins,  Miss  Bowne,  Miss 

22 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BOSTON   MUSEUM 

Marden,    and    myself   were    utility    ladies,    be- 
ginners in  the  ranks. 

It  was  splendid  training  to  grow  up  in  the 
theater  where  the  standard  plays  were  done 
over  and  over  again ;  it  had  a  great  many 
advantages,  among  which  was  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  what  was  played,  root  and  branch. 
Only  a  newcomer,  one  who  had  the  limited 
experience  of  playing  one  part,  could  make 
the  mistake  of  the  youth  in  Booth's  company, 
who  asked,  when  "Hamlet"  was  in  preparation, 
whether  it  was  to  be  done  from  manuscript  or 
printed  book.  As  the  old,  experienced  actors 
retired,  there  were  players  in  the  ranks 
equipped  for  the  emergencies  and  ready  to 
fill  the  gap.  Many  of  those  who  began  at  the 
Museum  remained  twenty-five  and  thirty 
years.  Think  what  so  long  a  professional  life 
in  a  single  theater  means,  in  comparison  to 
these  days  of  constantly  rising  stars  and 
shifting  satellites.  Does  not  the  fact  that  they 
could   retain   the   favor  of  their   audiences   for 

23 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

so    long    speak    volumes    for    the    brilliancy    of 
their  work  ? 

All  honor  and  praise  is  due  to  that  quartet 
of  artists  who  did  more  than  any  of  their  con- 
temporaries to  establish  the  Boston  Museum  in 
that  eminent  position  among  American  theaters 
which  is  so  creditable  to  it  and  so  gratifying  to 
local  pride  —  Charles  Barron,  Annie  Clarke, 
Mrs.  Vincent,  and  William  Warren !  With 
how  many  of  the  memories  and  the  traditions 
of  the  city  are  those  four  names  identified. 


24 


CHAPTER   III 

» 

William  Warren 

WILLIAM  WARREN  —  gentleman, 
scholar,  and  actor !  And  what  an 
actor  he  was  !  The  mere  mention  of  his  name 
recalls  to  old  theatergoers  his  surprising  versatil- 
ity. We  who  remember  him  as  the  dignified  Sir 
Peter  Teazle,  Tony  Lumpkin,  Doctor  Primrose, 
Jesse  Rural  in  "Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts  ", 
Doctor  Pangloss  in  "Heir-at-Law",  Jefferson 
Scattering  Batkins  in  "The  Silver  Spoon", 
Triplet  in  "Masks  and  Faces",  Dogberry, 
Touchstone,  Polonius,  Jacques  Faurel,  Papa 
Perrichon,  Poor  Pillicoddy,  "Box  and  Cox,"  and 
so  on,  name  after  name,  marvel  at  the  series 
of  characterizations,  and  the  wonder  of  his 
natural  blending  of  humor  with  pathos.  He 
is  said  to  have  studied  seven  hundred  roles. 

25 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

William  Warren  was  born  in  Philadelphia, 
November  17,  181 2,  on  Sansom  Street.  He 
came  of  a  player  family,  was  given  an  excellent 
education,  and  was  intended  for  a  commercial 
career ;  but  before  plans  were  matured,  his 
father  died,  leaving  the  family  in  straitened 
circumstances.  Young  William,  feeling  his  re- 
sponsibility as  the  chief  support  of  the  family, 
soon  decided  to  follow  his  father's  profession. 
The  opportunity  offered  itself  when  some  of 
his  father's  friends  arranged  a  benefit  for  the 
family,  and  William  made  his  debut  at  the 
Arch  Street  Theater,  in  1832,  as  young  Norval 
in  the  play  of  "Douglas",  which,  by  a  curious 
chance,  was  the  first  part  that  his  father 
played.  For  nearly  nine  years  he  led  the  life 
of  a  strolling  player,  wandering  through  remote 
regions  of  the  West,  acting  in  barns,  log  houses, 
sheds,  and  schoolhouses,  but  under  all  condi- 
tions with  sincerity  of  purpose. 

Mr.  Warren's  first  appearance  in  Boston  was 
at   the  Howard   Athenaeum    in    1846,   in    "The 

26 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

Rivals"',  in  which  he  played  the  part  of  Sir 
Lucius  O'Trigger.  On  August  27,  1847,  he 
joined  the  Boston  Museum  Stock  Company, 
playing  Billy  Lackaday  in  "Sweethearts  and 
Wives."  Mr.  Charles  W.  Hunt,  a  popular 
comedian  at  the  Boston  Museum  in  those  days, 
left  the  Company  because  of  some  misunder- 
standing with  the  management,  and  William 
Warren  stepped  into  his  place.  Mr.  Hunt  had 
been  such  a  favorite  that  everybody  felt  his 
place  could  not  be  filled,  and  that  failure  was 
ahead  for  the  Boston  Museum.  But  it  was  not 
long  before  Mr.  Warren  had  endeared  himself 
to  the  public,  and  for  thirty-six  years,  barring 
one  season  when  he  starred  with  his  own  com- 
pany, he  was  identified  with  that  famous  old 
playhouse. 

The  break  of  one  year  occurred  in  1 864-1 865. 
While  his  starring  venture,  under  the  name  of 
the  Warren-Orton  Combination,  was  a  great 
success,  he  preferred  to  return  to  the  Boston 
Museum,    that    had    become    his    home.     The 

27 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

members  of  the  Combination  were  Miss  Josie 
Orton,  Charles  Barron,  and  Emily  Mestayer. 
Mr.  Warren  always  disliked  traveling  and  its 
discomforts.  I  have  more  than  once  heard 
him  refer  to  that  nomadic  season  as  a  time  of 
miserable  unhappiness  and  utter  homesickness. 
I  remember  once,  when  a  younger  member  of 
the  company  was  complaining  of  a  change  of 
bills  and  hard  study,  Mr.  Warren  said  in  his 
inimitable  way  :  "Take  my  word  for  it,  it  is 
preferable  to  one-night  stands  in  Oshkosh, 
Peoria,  or  Skowhegan."  Traveling  and  hotels 
were  not  especially  luxurious  in  those  days,  and 
I  imagine  that  the  "welcome  of  the  inn"  was 
not  so  graciously  extended  to  the  strolling 
player  fifty  years  ago  as  to  the  actor  of  reputa- 
tion to-day. 

Mr.  Warren  made  his  reappearance  as  Doc- 
tor Pangloss  in  the  "Heir-at-Law."  I  have 
been  told  that  never  was  an  actor  more 
heartily  welcomed.  They  applauded  him  on 
every  entrance,  so  eager  were  they  to  show  their 

28 


WILLIAM   WARREN 

appreciation  of  his  worth  and  his  loyalty  to 
the  Museum  and  its  patrons,  to  whom  he 
had  become  endeared.  He  remained  at  the 
Museum  to  the  end  of  his  career,  playing 
all  kinds  of  parts. 

Up  to  1880,  farces  were  always  on  the  theat- 
rical menu,  as  many  as  five  sometimes  being 
given  in  one  night.  There  was  rarely  a  pro- 
gram of  a  serious  character  that  was  not  pre- 
ceded by  a  farce.  The  Morton  farces,  "Betsey 
Baker",  "Poor  Pillicoddy",  etc.,  were  most 
popular  in  those  days.  Their  faults  were 
indeed  evident,  but  they  gave  great  pleasure 
to  theatergoers.  Who  that  has  seen  William 
Warren  in  "Box  and  Cox"  and  "Poor  Pilli- 
coddy" will  ever  forget  those  evenings  of 
wholesome,  happy  laughter  that  began  with 
the  rising  of  the  curtain  and  lasted  till  it  fell  ? 

It  was  when  Mr.  Warren  was  playing  Pilli- 
coddy that  a  young  Irishman,  fresh  from  the 
sod,  sitting  in  the  gallery,  was  heard  to  shriek 
out,    through    a    gale    of    laughter,     "Warren, 

29 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

Warren,  for  the  love  of  man,  hould  up,  or 
I'll  niver  be  able  to  go  to  me  wurk  in  the 
mornin'."  How  delightful  to  Irish  hearts  was 
his  playing  of  Dennis  O'Rourke  and  the 
charm  of  his  Father  Doolan  in  "The  Shaugh- 
raun." 

Dickens'  characters  were  his  special  joy.  He 
reveled  in  Micawber.  I  never  saw  him  as  Joe 
Gargery  in  "Great  Expectations",  but  Miss 
Clarke  told  me  that  in  her  early  youth  she 
played  the  boy  part  "Pip",  and  speaking  of 
Mr.  Warren's  acting,  she  said,  "What  a  Gar- 
gery he  was  !" 

Many  of  his  famous  characters  come  vividly 
to  my  mind.  The  memory  of  his  rendition  of 
Jefferson  Scattering  Batkins  in  "The  Silver 
Spoon"  will  bring  forth  a  laugh  from  Warren 
lovers  even  to-day.  At  one  time  I  played  the 
part  of  Abbie  Bacon  in  that  play,  and  in  the 
scene  where  Batkins  encountered  the  sardines  for 
the  first  time,  I  had  great  difficulty  in  restrain- 
ing my  mirth. 

30 


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fee 


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s 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

Those  who  have  seen,  him  in  the  part  cannot 
fail  to  again  enjoy  these  lines : 

Batkins.  Then  this  luncheon  is  for  me, 
Abbie  ?     What's  them  in  the  tin  box  ? 

Abbie.     Sardines,  they  call  them. 

Batkins.  Sour  beans  !  What  do  they  do  with 
the  critters  ? 

Abbie.     Eat  um. 

Batkins.  Eat  um !  What,  raw  ?  They  got 
ile  all  over  them,  lamp  ile !  Abbie,  they 
smell  like  fishes. 

Abbie.     Well,  they  be  fishes. 

Batkins.  Well,  sit  down  and  take  a  little  bite 
along  with  me.     Ain't  you  hungry  ? 

Abbie.  No,  Mr.  Batkins.  If  I  was,  I  know 
my  place.  It's  not  for  me,  a  poor  servant 
girl,  to  set  down  and  eat  with  you.  You 
are  a  great  man,  —  a  captain  in  the  legis- 
lature. 

Batkins.  We're  all  born  free  and  equil. 
Abbie,    there's    a    great    responsibility    on 

31 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

me.  {He  sits  down,  tucks  a  napkin  under 
his  chin.)  So  I  must  eat  those  little  fishes 
biled  in  ile,  eh,  with  crackers  and  lemons 
mixed  ?  Did  you  ever  eat  any  on  um, 
Abbie  ? 

Abbie.     No,  sir. 

Batkins.  I  should  like  to  see  somebody  do  it 
first.  {He  makes  unsuccessful  efforts  to  pick 
one  out.)  Why,  the  tails  ain't  strong 
enough  to  hold  um. 

Abbie.     Use  the  fork,  sir. 

Batkins.  Oh,  that's  the  way,  is  it  ?  {He  picks 
one  up  on  the  fork,  offering  it  to  Abbie.) 
Abbie,  you  try  one.  You  dassent.  Come, 
Abbie,  let's  see  you  do  it. 

Abbie.     They're  for  the  gentlemen,  sir. 

Batkins.     Well,  I  s'pose  I  must  eat  um. 

Abbie.     Just  as  you  please,  sir. 

Batkins.     Set  down,  Abbie. 

Abbie.  No,  sir,  I'm  here  to  wait  upon  you. 
{After  some  difficulty  he  manages  to  swallow 
a  fish  and  makes  faces  as  though  nauseated.) 

32 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

Batkins.     I    can't    go    sardines ;     they    won't 

stay  down,  by  Jonah. 
Abbie.     The    gentlefolks    drink    some    of    that 

stuff  in  the  bottle  when  they  swim  in  their 

stomachs. 
Batkins.     Swim  !     Why,  ain't  the  fishes  dead  ? 

{He  becomes  very  much  nauseated?) 
Abbie.     Take    a    drink    from    the    bottle,    sir ; 

perhaps    it    will    help    to    keep    um    down. 

{He  drinks  and  smacks  his  lips.) 
Batkins.     Well,  that  does  go  to  the  right  spot, 

by  Jonah. 

This  play  of  "The  Silver  Spoon"  in  which 
Mr.  Warren  presented  Jefferson  Scattering 
Batkins,  Member  of  the  Massachusetts  Leg- 
islature from  Cranberry  Center,  never  failed 
to  pack  the  house.  The  play  held  the  stage 
for  more  than  twenty  years  and  it  was  always 
customary  to  put  it  on  a  week  every  year,  at 
the  assembling  of  the  General  Court. 

His    performance    of    Herr    Weigel    in    "My 

33 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

Son"  was  a  masterpiece  and  wonderfully  true 
to  life.  I  played  Marie,  the  young  girl  whom 
his  son  betrayed,  and  when  the  father  (Herr 
Weigel)  discovers  the  situation,  a  stormy  scene 
takes  place  between  father  and  son.  I  was 
supposed  to  faint  at  the  close  of  the  scene.  I 
had  never  fainted  on  the  stage  and  was  very 
nervous,  but  on  the  night  of  the  performance, 
Mr.  Warren's  acting  was  so  real  that  I  gave 
way  to  the  situation  and  was  completely  over- 
powered, and  fell  helplessly  to  the  ground  with- 
out any  effort.  I  received  much  nattering 
praise  for  the  artistic  effect  of  that  fall,  but  I 
can  assure  you  there  was  no  effect  premedi- 
tated. I  was  simply  swayed  by  emotion,  and 
dropped  to  the  ground  unconscious  of  my  sur- 
roundings. 

I  remember  standing  in  the  wings  with  Miss 
Clarke  one  night  when  Mr.  Warren  was  playing 
Jacques  Faurel  in  "One  Hundred  Years  Old." 
In  the  moment  of  his  most  exquisite  pathos, 
some     boor     in     the     audience     laughed.     Mr. 

34 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

Warren's  face  flushed,  and  his  lips  trembled. 
Miss  Clarke's  eyes  overflowed  with  tears  of 
rage  and  compassion.  That  laugher  would 
have  fared  ill  if  any  member  of  our  Company 
could  have  laid  hands  on  him. 

How  often  we  have  laughed  or  wept  with 
him  almost  in  the  same  breath.  His  own 
nature,  genuine  and  sincere,  was  shown  in  his 
acting.  As  I  remember  Mr.  Warren,  I  feel 
that  age  depends  much  on  the  way  one  carries 
it.  He  always  maintained  his  delight  in  youth. 
He  was  never  heard  speaking  of  the  good  old 
times,  as  some  people  call  them,  but  was  al- 
ways expecting  greater  things  of  those  growing 
up,  in  all  of  whom  he  was  ever  deeply  interested. 

Mr.  Warren  never  married.  For  forty  years 
he  lived  in  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  house  on 
Bulfinch  Place.  His  hostess  was  Miss  Amelia 
Fisher,  a  life-honored  friend.  Mr.  Warren  was 
the  first  boarder,  and  those  select  few  who  had 
the  happiness  of  being  admitted  later  to  this 
haven  of  rest  were  fortunate   indeed.     Among 

35 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

them  were  Joseph  Jefferson,  Henry  Irving,  and 
Fechter.  Mr.  Warren  was  the  only  guest  per- 
mitted the  use  of  a  latchkey,  and  it  was  said 
that  Miss  Fisher  never  retired  until  all  her 
guests  were  safely  in. 

The  players  met  in  the  kitchen  for  their 
supper  after  the  evening's  labor  —  and  what 
a  dear  little  kitchen  it  was !  The  colored, 
braided  mats  on  the  floor,  the  flour-barrel 
dressed  in  flowered  chintz,  the  shining  dish 
covers  hanging  on  the  wall,  the  highly  polished 
stove  that  might  well  serve  as  a  mirror  —  and 
the  kettle  boiling  and  singing  as  an  interlude  to 
the  merry  jests  and  brilliant  interchange  of  ideas  ! 
What   a   restful  joy  to  the   poor  wayfarers  ! 

Mr.  Warren  was  given  a  golden  jubilee  on 
his  fiftieth  anniversary  as  an  actor.  After- 
noon and  evening  performances  were  arranged, 
—  "The  Heir-at-Law"  in  the  afternoon  and 
"The  School  for  Scandal"  in  the  evening,  — 
with  Mr.  Warren  appearing  as  Doctor  Pan- 
gloss  and  Sir  Peter  Teazle. 

36 


WILLIAM   WARREN 

The  interior  of  the  theater  was  beautifully 
decorated,  and  the  foyer  was  transformed  into 
a  veritable  garden.  The  boxes  were  festooned 
with  laurel  leaves  and  smilax,  interspersed 
with  gorgeous-hued  autumn  leaves  and  bright 
flowers.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  in  the  inner 
lobby,  was  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Warren  painted 
by  Frederick  P.  Vinton,  by  the  order  of  many 
Bostonians  who  wished  to  retain  for  all  time 
in  this  city  the  living  likeness  of  our  greatest 
comedian.  The  orchestra  was  banished  from 
its  original  place,  and  a  life-sized  bust  of  Mr. 
Warren  placed  in  its  stead. 

A  more  brilliantly  attired  audience  was  never 
seen  in  Boston;  indeed,  the  term  "brilliant" 
is  inadequate  to  express  the  appearance  of  the 
great  gathering.  Prominent  representatives 
of  all  professions,  the  clergy  not  excepted, 
were  present.  Every  available  space  was  filled, 
more  than  seventeen  hundred  people  attending 
in  the  evening,  and  more  than  eleven  hundred 
in   the   afternoon.     The   world   of   fashion   and 

37 


• 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

society,  and  more  humble  admirers  as  well, 
were  all  there  to  pay  homage  to  the  actor. 

The  applause  was  tumultuous  on  the  appear- 
ance of  Mr.  Warren,  who  was  greatly  affected 
by  his  reception.  His  voice  trembled,  and  his 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  He  was  deluged 
with  flowers,  gold  and  silver  gifts,  messages 
from  all  over  the  world.  At  the  close  of  the 
screen  scene,  he  came  forward  to  receive  a 
greeting  as  hearty  as  that  which  met  him  on 
his  first  entrance. 

Mr.  Warren  avoided  intimacy  with  the  au- 
dience in  his  work  on  the  stage,  and  I  never 
knew  him  to  address  an  audience  in  his  own 
words,  but  this  was  a  signal  occasion.  He 
gracefully  acknowledged  the  compliment  and 
then  spoke  as  follows : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  perhaps  on  such  an 
occasion  as  this,  I  may  be  permitted  to  come 
nearer  to  you  and  address  you  as  patrons  and 
friends.  It  may  be  a  questionable  matter  whether 
the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  year  of  any  man's 
life  should  be  a  matter  of  congratulation  rather 


l&j 


38 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

than  perhaps  one  of  sympathy  or  condolence. 
You  seem,  however,  most  emphatically  to  rank 
it  with  the  former,  and  certainly  I  have  no 
cause  to  class  it  with  the  latter.  To  have  lived 
in  this  city  of  Boston  happily  for  more  than 
five  and  thirty  years,  engaged  in  so  good  and 
successful  a  theater  as  this  and  cheered  always 
by  your  favor,  and  then  to  have  that  residence 
crowned  by  such  an  assemblage  as  I  see  before 
me,  is  glory  enough  for  one  poor  player.  My 
humble  efforts  have  never  gained  for  me  any 
of  the  great  prizes  of  my  profession  until  now, 
but  failing  to  reach  the  summit  of  Parnassus, 
it  is  something  to  have  found  so  snug  a  nook 
in  the  mountain  side.  I  came  here  to  thank 
you  and  I  do  thank  you  from  the  very  bottom 
of  my  heart.  I  have  some  grateful  acknowl- 
edgments to  make  to  others — to  the  gentle- 
men of  the  committee  of  arrangements,  as  well 
as  to  those  who  presented  the  painting  by  the 
artist ;  to  the  gentlemen  of  the  press,  to  the 
manager  of  this  theater,  and  to  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  engaged  in  it.  Also,  I  should  name 
several  distinguished  volunteers,  —  Mr.  Barna- 
bee,  who  was  the  first  to  offer  his  services, 
Edwin  Booth,  Lester  Wallack,  John  McCul- 
lough,  Lawrence  Barrett  and  last,  but  not 
least,  Miss  Mary  Anderson,  and  Mrs.  John 
Drew.  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I 
wish  that  all  present  within  the  sound  of  my 
voice  may  by  some  event  in  life  be  made  as 
happy   as   you   have   made   me  to-day  by   this 


event  in  mine." 


39 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  act,  a  chorus  of 
fifty  ladies  and  gentlemen  who,  unknown  to 
Mr.  Warren,  had  volunteered  their  services, 
and  were  stationed  behind  the  scenes,  sang 
"Auld  Lang  Syne"  till  the  curtain  fell,  shutting 
out  from  view  the  grand  old  actor.  It  was 
very  impressive,  and  there  were  many  tear- 
dimmed  eyes  in  the  audience. 

Another  pleasant  surprise  awaited  Mr.  Warren 
at  his  home  in  Bulflnch  Place,  —  a  beautiful 
loving-cup  made  of  beaten  silver  and  lined  with 
gold,  an  exquisite  work  of  art,  bearing  the 
following  inscription  : 

"To  WILLIAM  WARREN,  on  the  comple- 
tion of  his  fiftieth  year  on  the  stage,  October 
27,  1882,  from  Joseph  Jefferson,  Edwin  Booth, 
A4ary  Anderson,  John  McCullough,  and  Law- 
rence Barrett." 

The  committee  which  had  charge  of  the  gift 
included  Mr.  William  Winter  of  the  New  York 
Tribune,  Mr.  James  R.  Osgood,  Captain 
Nathan  Appleton,  Mr.  F.  P.  Vinton,  the  artist, 

40 


WILLIAM   WARREN 

Manager  R.  M.  Field,  and  Mr.  T.  R.  Sullivan. 
The  presentation  speech  was  made  by  Mr. 
Winter. 

Each  member  of  the  Company  was  presented 
with  a  personal  letter  as  follows  : 

To  the  Ladies  and  Gentlemen 

of 

The  Boston  Museum  Company 

of  1882-3. 

It  is  with  mingled  feelings  of  pride  and 
pleasure  that  I  acknowledge  the  beautiful  gifts 
of  gold,  silver,  and  flowers,  presented  to  me  on 
this,  my  seventieth  birthday. 

Coming  from  my  professional  associates,  who 
know  me  best,  they  were  received  with  a  double 
zest,  and  will  always  be  cherished  through  my 
remaining  years  with  the  liveliest  sense  of 
gratitude  towards  you,  the  liberal  donors. 

That  all  happiness,  success  and  prosperity 
may  attend  you  is  the  sincere  wish  of 

Yours  most  respectfully, 

William  Warren 

I  have  seen  Mr.  Warren  play  Sir  Peter  many, 
many  times,  but  never  have  I  seen  him  give 
such  a  performance  as  on  that  evening.  He 
seemed    inspired.     I    was    fortunate    in    being 

4i 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

cast  for  Lady  Sneerwell  in  "The  School  for 
Scandal",  and  the  memory  of  that  occasion 
will  be  forever  cherished  in  my  mind.  How 
proud  his  associates  were !  How  we  honored 
and  respected  him,  and  yet,  after  all  that  ad- 
ulation of  his  golden  jubilee,  he  appeared 
among  us  at  the  next  rehearsal  and  resumed 
his  work  with  the  simplicity  of  manner  that 
was  characteristic  of  that  'great  man.  As  a 
guide  in  dramatic  art,  he  was  an  inspiration. 

The  last  part  he  played  was  Old  Eccles 
in  "Caste."  It  always  seemed  a  pity  to 
me  that  he  could  not  have  finished  his 
career  with  something  more  worthy  of  him, 
when  one  remembers  his  splendid  rendition  of 
Jacques  Faurel,  Doctor  Primrose,  or  Jesse 
Rural,  either  one  of  which  would  have  been  a 
much  more  delightful  memory  for  us  to  retain 
for  all  time. 

He  retired  in  May,  1883,  after  more  than 
half  a  century  of  honest,  faithful  work.  There 
were  no  farewell    speeches,  no    flourishes.      He 

42 


WILLIAM  WARREN 

retired  as  he  lived  among  us,  a  modest,  un- 
assuming gentleman,  and  he  never  visited  the 
Museum  again.  He  spent  the  last  five  years 
of  his  life  in  the  home  he  loved,  surrounded 
by  friends  and  his  books.  His  was  a  famil- 
iar figure  on  Boston  streets.  Every  one  knew 
him,  and  each  face  he  met  was  the  face  of  a 
friend. 

Mr.  Warren  died  September  21,  i388,  at  his 
home  on  Bulfinch  Place,  after  a  short  illness, 
and  was  buried  at  Mt.  Auburn  Cemetery. 
The  funeral  services  were  held  at  Trinity 
Church,    Reverend   Phillips    Brooks   officiating. 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  appreciate  my 
humble  association  with  William  Warren,  — 
gentleman,  scholar,  and  actor. 


43 


D 


CHAPTER   IV 
Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent 
EAR,   kindly  Mrs.    Vincent,   beloved    by 


all,  —  a  name  never  to  be  forgotten  ! 
Who  that  remember  her  but  recall  the  jolly, 
chubby,  little  figure,  the  bobbing  curls,  the 
inimitable,  trippy  walk,  and  the  gasping, 
pleasant  voice,  all  suggestive  of  mirth  and 
merriment.  Her  appearance  on  the  stage  was 
a  signal  for  a  rousing  reception,  and  she  had  an 
amusing  little  trick  of  speaking  outside  before 
she  appeared,  which  prepared  the  audience  for 
her  coming.  How  irresistible  was  her  quaint 
curtsying !  She  would  pick  up  her  skirt  at 
both  sides  and  bob  first  to  one  side  and  then 
to  the  other,  with  that  merry  little  twinkle  in 
her  eye  that  never  failed  to  captivate  her  au- 
dience.    She  was  adored  by  the  Boston  public. 

44 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

Mrs.  Vincent  was  born  in  Portland,  England, 
September  18,  1818.  Her  maiden  name  was 
Mary  Ann  Farley.  Her  father  was  an  Irish- 
man, and  held  a  good  position  in  the  navy 
department  of  England. 

She  had  a  natural  fondness  for  the  stage,  and 
at  sixteen  made  her  first  appearance  as  Lucy 
in  "The  Review."  When  she  was  seventeen, 
she  married  J.  R.  Vincent,  and  together  they 
played  through  England,  Ireland,  and  Scot- 
land. She  used  to  tell  many  interesting  stories 
of  their  hardships  in  the  early  forties.  They 
did  not  use  conveyances ;  traveling  meant 
footing  it ;  and  they  were  real  barnstormers. 
But  they  were  a  happy  couple,  and  when  they 
came  to  America,  in  1846,  they  were  able  to 
enjoy  a  home  life  for  the  first  time. 

Mrs.  Vincent  would  often  speak  of  her  arrival 
in  America.  She  was  very  homesick,  and 
loathed  America  and  its  customs.  She  con- 
fessed later  that  this  was  largely  due  to  the 
tempestuous  voyage  that  had  lasted  seventeen 

45 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

days,  and  it  took  her  some  time  to  get  her  sea 
legs  adjusted.  Their  first  Boston  appearance 
was  at  the  old  National  Theater,  November  n, 
1846,  under  the  management  of  William  Pelby, 
in  Buckstone's  "Popping  the  Question."  They 
both  played  here  successfully  until  1850, 
when  Mr.  Vincent  died  very  suddenly.  Mrs. 
Vincent  remained  as  a  member  of  the  Company 
until  the  burning  of  the  theater,  April  22, 
1852.  She  joined  the  Museum  Company  the 
same  year,  appearing  as  Mrs.  Pontifex  in 
"Naval  Engagements",  and  from  that  date 
until  her  death  in  the  fall  of  1887,  she  was 
absent  but  one  period, — the  year  1 861-1862, 
when  she  played  at  the  Holliday  Street  Theater, 
Baltimore,  and  also  in  the  support  of  Edwin 
Forrest.  In  1853,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five, 
she  married  John  Wilson,  but  the  marriage  was 
not  a  happy  one.  Mr.  Wilson  died  in  1881. 
Mrs.  Vincent  was  at  the  Boston  Museum 
thirty-five  years.  She  told  me  that  in  the 
early  days  her  salary  was  twelve  dollars  a  week 

46 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

and  a  couple  of  "bones."  These  "bones" 
were  good  for  two  seats  at  the  Museum,  and 
could  be  exchanged  with  the  butcher  or  grocer 
for  household  supplies. 

She  also  told  me  with  what  joy  she  hailed 
the  advent  of  the  horse-car.  Her  daily  traveling 
hitherto  was  mostly  by  Mr.  Murphy's  omnibus 
that  stopped  at  the  Museum  for  passengers,  and 
left  at  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Murphy  announcing, 
"Visitors,  visitors,  step  lively!  This  bus  goes 
on  down  through  Washington  Street,  on  off 
up  through  Roxbury !  Fare  twelve  and  a 
half  cents." 

Mrs.  Vincent  was  very  domestic,  and  her 
love  of  home  was  perhaps  stronger  because  of 
her  early  struggles  in  the  barnstorming  days. 
She  was  the  soul  of  hospitality,  and  those  who 
were  fortunate  enough  to  be  her  guests  were 
well  fed  and  entertained  by  the  good  lady. 
The  culinary  department  was  her  special  pleas- 
ure. Each  year  mincemeat,  pickles,  jellies,  and 
jams    were    put    up    by    her    own    fair    hands 

47 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

and  generously  shared  with  members  of  the 
Company.     Her  plum  puddings  were  renowned. 

I  recall  one  Christmas  when  we  were  playing 
in  a  very  gloomy  town  in  New  England.  We 
were  stopping  at  a  boarding-house,  as  there 
was  no  available  hotel  in  the  place,  and  Oh  !  it 
was  cold  with  no  furnace  or  steam-heat,  and 
only  an  air-tight  stove  in  the  parlor  —  or 
"  Drawing  Room  "  — as  was  printed  in  large  type 
on  the  door.  I  never  knew  till  then  that  stoves 
were  named,  but  I  shall  never  forget  that 
special  brand  —  Air-tight! 

We  were  to  give  a  matinee  and  evening  per- 
formance on  that  Christmas  Day,  and  at  the 
matinee  there  was  a  very  small  audience, 
which  helped  make  us  less  philosophical,  as 
we  returned  to  the  Drawing  Room  after  the 
matinee,  and  huddled  about  the  "air-tight." 
But  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  ?  We  would 
eat  the  boarding-house  turkey  and  hurry  back 
to  the  theater.  We  were  a  merry  lot,  and  I 
remember  Mr.  Warren  and  Mrs.  Vincent  were 

48 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

in  jolly  good  spirits,  and  while  the  dinner  was 
awful,  the  gayety  was  all  the  more  enjoyable. 
We  had  a  private  table,  and  when  the  turkey 
appeared,  very  pallid,  Mr.  Warren  carved  it, 
exclaiming,  "Ah  !  a  rare  bird  !"  At  dessert,  lo 
and  behold,  was  served  one  of  Mrs.  Vincent's  plum 
puddings  she  had  brought  on  for  the  occasion. 
It  was  a  cheery  sight,  —  like  a  crouching  porcu- 
pine covered  with  blanched  almonds  all  ablaze. 
There  was  a  general  clapping  of  hands,  and  the 
saying  "actors  never  eat"  was  disproved. 

For  years  we  made  a  short  tour  each  season 
through  New  England,  going  as  far  as  Mon- 
treal. It  was  a  regular  holiday  for  us,  usually 
coming  in  the  spring  or  apple-blossom  time,  and 
we  always  played  to  packed  houses.  While  we 
were  absent,  some  company  or  star  occupied 
the  Museum  stage,  the  members  of  our  com- 
pany who  were  not  traveling,  supporting  them. 
George  W.  Blatchford  had  charge  of  our  travel- 
ing tours,  and  everything  possible  was  done  for 
our  comfort.     I  can  see  our  merry  party  headed 

49 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

for  the  train.  There  were  William  Warren, 
Charles  Barron,  Mrs.  Vincent,  accompanied 
by  her  companion,  Mrs.  Hart  (Hartie),  with 
whom  she  lived  during  her  last  days,  Miss 
Clarke  and  her  mother,  George  Wilson, 
"Barney"  Nolan,  my  husband  (christened 
Barney  by  his  associates  because  of  playing 
the  title  part  in  "Barney,  the  Baron"  so  suc- 
cessfully for  a  long  run),  J.  H.  Ring,  James 
Burrows,  and  James  R.  Pitman. 

We  traveled  in  the  best  possible  way.  Our 
rooms  at  the  hotel  were  secured  in  advance. 
Carriages  were  provided  for  the  ladies  to  and 
from  the  theater  at  night,  and  a  special  supper 
always  awaited  us  after  the  play.  A  bottle  of 
Bass's  ale  was  always  provided  for  Mr.  Warren 
and  Mrs.  Vincent,  in  deference  to  their  Eng- 
lish tastes.  Even  the  little  pet  dogs,  Mrs. 
Vincent's  Dot,  Miss  Clarke's  Pansy  and  Jip, 
were  looked  after,  and  their  menu,  consisting 
of  liver,  milk,  and  biscuits,  was  discussed  with 
other    hotel    arrangements. 

SO 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

We  were  relieved  from  expense  and  responsibil- 
ity entirely,  when  traveling  on  the  road,  the  man- 
agement providing  everything.  Alas  !  all  good 
things  end  ;  so  ended  this  !  Just  because  of  lack 
of  appreciation,  we  lost  our  perquisites,  and  it 
came  about  in  this  way.  A  "jeune  premier", 
very  popular  with  the  audience  and  the  Com- 
pany as  well,  but  very  much  of  a  spoiled  child, 
thought  he  ought  to  be  allowed  a  bottle  of 
Bass's  ale  for  supper  every  night,  so  he  wrote 
home  to  the  management.  Manager  R.  M. 
Field  replied  at  once,  saying  that  the  arrange- 
ment was  a  courtesy  extended  by  the  manage- 
ment, and  very  shortly  after  that,  we  all,  except- 
ing Mr.  Warren  and  Mrs.  Vincent,  were  put  on 
an  allowance  of  a  dollar  and  a  half  per  diem  for 
general  expenses. 

Mrs.  Vincent  was  always  full  of  fun  on  these 
trips,  and  the  mirth-maker  of  the  party.  She 
loved  to  play  practical  jokes.  I  remember  she 
was  dreadfully  scared  of  mice,  and  we  always 
knew  when    she    reached    the    theater,   for   she 

51 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

would  stamp  her  little  feet  and  "sssh",  "sssh" 
through  the  dark  corridor  to  her  dressing-room. 
Speaking  of  mice  reminds  me  that  before  the 
renovation  of  the  theater,  we  had  many  rats. 
They  never  feared  our  intrusion,  and  I  believe 
they  knew  each  member  of  the  company ; 
Mrs.  Vincent's  stamping  and  "ssshing"  didn't 
dismay  them  in  the  least.  Miss  Clarke  de- 
clared that  one  old  fellow  always  came  down 
the  stairs  to  witness  every  first-night  perform- 
ance. Her  dressing-room  in  those  days  was 
up  one  flight  from  the  stage,  and  rickety  old 
stairs  they  were !  Miss  Clarke  said  she  could 
hear  him  majestically  thudding  over  those 
stairs  and  back  again.  I  saw  him  once ;  he 
was  very  grizzled  and  gray.  He  was  most 
considerate  and  would  always  step  aside,  — 
slowly,  not  hurriedly.  Although  I  didn't 
exactly  fear  him,  yet  somehow  I  didn't  enjoy 
meeting  him,  and  was  glad  when  he  and  his 
kind  passed  out  with  the  ramshackle  stairs 
and  the  old  dressing-rooms. 

52 


MRS.   J.   R.    VINCENT 

Every  theater  possesses  a  stage  cat,  and  the 
Museum  cat,  not  unlike  her  kind,  made  her 
debut  and  many  unexpected  reappearances, 
usually  selecting  the  time  during  an  emotional 
scene.  She  would  take  the  center  of  the  stage, 
blink  her  approval  of  the  audience,  and  then 
proceed  to  wash  her  face ;  or  at  other  times, 
she  would  stalk  on  cautiously,  and  then  make 
a  sudden  dash  for  an  exit  that  was  not  an  exit. 
I  hardly  know  which  method  the  audience 
enjoyed  most ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  the  actor 
who  happened  to  be  on  the  stage  at  the  time 
suffered  much  discomfort.  But  regardless  of 
this,  the  cat  would  reach  a  place  of  safety  and 
there  remain,  despite  the  efforts  of  the  stage 
hands,  who  made  appealing  calls  to  lure  her 
from  the  spot.  Even  the  rats  could  not  dis- 
turb Puss's  equilibrium.  She  was  well  fed,  a 
favorite  with  the  stage  hands  as  well  as  the 
actors,  and  Mrs.  Vincent's  special  charge. 

One  time  we  were  playing  in  New  Bedford 
when  the  elder  Sothern  came  from  Boston  to 

53 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

spend  the  day  with  Mrs.  Vincent.  They  were 
real,  oldtime  friends,  and  were  always  playing 
practical  jokes  on  each  other.  That  night, 
when  Mrs.  Vincent  entered  her  dressing-room, 
after  the  usual  scampering  and  "ssshing",  we 
heard  an  awful  shriek.  We  rushed  to  her 
assistance  and  found  the  poor,  dear  lady  panic- 
stricken.  Sothern  had  put  a  rubber  mouse 
in  her  dressing-room  —  the  most  real  looking 
mouse  I  ever  saw  —  attached  by  a  rubber 
string  to  the  gas-burner,  and  when  she  turned 
the  gas  on,  the  mouse  jumped  about  in  a 
vividly  natural  way.  Poor  soul !  When  she 
realized  it  was  a  joke,  she  laughed  till  she 
almost  cried,  and  every  time  she  would  think 
of  it  during  the  evening,  she  would  say:  "Oh! 
that  awful  Neddy.  Just  wait  till  I  fix  him." 
She  told  us  many  funny  stories  about 
Sothern.  A  favorite  one  was  about  his  going 
to  an  undertaker  and  ordering  in  a  lavish 
manner  everything  necessary  for  a  funeral. 
No  expense  must  be  spared ;    the  preparations 

54 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

must  be  worthy  of  a  deceased  royal  prince. 
The  undertaker,  concealing  his  delight,  at  once 
proceeded  to  carry  out  orders.  Mr.  Sothern 
would  drop  in  to  see  how  arrangements  were 
progressing,  and  on  his  final  visit  said,  "When 
can  I  have  the  body  ?" 

"The  body?  What  do  you  mean?"  cried 
the  undertaker. 

"Why,  of  course  you  provide  the  body?" 

The  undertaker  was  unable  to  speak.  He 
stood  amazed,  with  open  mouth,  when  Sothern 
solemnly  produced  a  card,  exclaiming,  "Why, 
do  you  not  say  here,  'All  things  necessary  for 
funerals  promptly  supplied'?  Is  not  a  body 
the  very  first  necessity?" 

I  remember  well  a  joke  that  he  played  on 
Sadie  Martinot  and  myself.  We  had  planned 
to  have  our  lunch  in  the  theater  after  the 
matinee.  Our  luncheon  consisted  of  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  cream-of-tartar  biscuits,  doughnuts, 
pickled  limes,  and  homemade  molasses  candy. 
Mr.  Sothern  was  waiting  to  take  Mrs.  Vincent 

55 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

home  after  the  matinee.  When  he  learned  of  our 
menu,  he  was  very  much  amused,  and  suggested 
sending  us  something  more  substantial,  from 
the  chop-house  opposite  the  Museum,  famous 
for  its  chop-steaks  and  salads  (Atwood's). 

We  were  quite  satisfied  with  our  luncheon  at 
first,  but  Miss  Martinot  decided  that  a  lobster 
salad  and  ice  cream  would  be  delicious  additions. 
Mr.  Sothern  jokingly  suggested  a  glass  of 
milk  and  some  nice  sardines.  However,  in 
due  time,  the  waiter  appeared  with  a  most 
attractive  tray,  bearing  a  luscious  lobster  salad 
and  ice  cream.  When  Miss  Martinot  served 
the  salad,  she  discovered  that  it  was  composed 
of  sawdust,  artistically  decorated  with  lettuce, 
olives,  and  mayonnaise,  and  the  ice  cream  was 
a  block  of  wood,  with  a  thin  layer  of  ice  cream 
on  top.  We  hardly  minded  the  disappoint- 
ment, because  it  was  such  a  joke,  but  after 
we  had  scolded  and  laughed  in  the  same  breath, 
a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  the  waiter 
appeared  with  a  real  salad  and  real  ice  cream. 

56 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

We  forgave  and  loved  dear  Sothern,  even  as 
Mrs.  Vincent  forgave  him  for  the  mouse  trick. 

Just  before  Christmas,  each  year,  Mr. 
Sothern  sent  a  check  of  one  hundred  dollars  to 
Mrs.  Vincent  for  her  poor  people,  and  she  called 
it  "The  Sothern  Fund." 

Mrs.  Vincent  devoted  much  of  her  time  to 
costuming.  For  years,  she  costumed  the  Har- 
vard plays  for  the  "Pudding"  and  "Dickey" 
theatricals.  The  boys  were  very  much  en- 
deared to  the  dear  old  lady,  and  fine  friendships 
were  then  formed  which  existed  till  the  end  of 
her  life.  She  delighted  in  collecting  rare  bits 
of  lace  and  brocades,  and  had  a  wonderful 
collection  of  paste  jewels  and  buckles.  I  shall 
never  forget  my  husband's  joy,  when  he  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  a  pair  of  those  much- 
coveted  buckles.  He  at  once  sought  out  his 
old  friend  Burrows,  who  had  so  often  hoped  to 
inveigle  her  into  parting  with  a  pair,  and  said  to 
him:  "Now,  Jim,  now  is  the  accepted  time!" 
Burrows  then  succeeded  in  getting  a  pair. 

57 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

Mrs.  Vincent's  home  was  filled  with  dumb 
animals.  She  had  a  wonderful  family  of  black 
cats,  each  named  after  a  prominent  member 
of  the  Company.  William  Warren  was  a 
majestic  old  fellow  and  as  dignified  as  his 
namesake,  and  I  remember  Smithy  was  an 
unusually  attractive  cat  and  very  fastidious. 
There  was  also  a  naughty  little  parrot  who 
embarrassed  her  mistress  at  most  inopportune 
times  by  saying:  "Mother,  Mother,  shut 
up,  Mother!  Go  t'ell !  Tired  Mother!  Nice 
Mother!"  Then  there  was  Dot,  a  black-and- 
tan  dog  who  demanded  all  the  care  of  a  child 
and  got  it.  She  was  Mrs.  Vincent's  favorite 
and  constant  companion,  and  never  was  the 
lady  seen  without  Dot.  If  she  put  the  dog 
down  for  a  moment,  it  would  disappear,  in- 
stantly spirited  away  by  the  boys  of  the 
neighborhood ;  but  when  a  reward  was  offered, 
it  was  always  returned  safely  to  its  mistress. 
Dot  finally  died,  and  the  naughty  boys  were  very 
sorry ;  but  it  was  a  real  grief  to  his  mistress. 

58 


Mrs.    J.    R.    Vincent 


MRS.   J.   R.   VINCENT 

Her  love  and  kindness  were  not  confined  to 
dumb  animals,  but  extended  to  many  unfortu- 
nate human  beings  who  have  to  thank  her  for 
care  and  help. 

On  New  Year's  Day,  a  short  time  ago,  a 
little  parcel  was  sent  to  E.  A.  Sothern,  which 
contained  the  fan  used  by  her  for  so  many 
years.  Her  oldtime  friend,  Judge  Richardson, 
who  had  charge  of  many  of  Mrs.  Vincent's  be- 
longings, presented  it  to  Mr.  Sothern  as  a 
fitting  souvenir  of  his  dear  friend. 

Who  can  ever  forget  her  delightful  Mrs. 
Candour  in  "The  School  for  Scandal",  when  she 
used  that  fan  as  she  spoke  the  lines  : 

"Tale-bearers  are  just  as  bad  as  the  tale- 
makers,  and  they  do  say,  —  ahem  —  "  ? 

Never  have  I  heard  the  lines  spoken  with  the 
same  unction.  And  her  Mrs.  Malaprop,  with 
the  wonderful  furbelows  and  remarkable  faux- 
pas!  She  was  so  irresistibly  funny  that  one 
couldn't  realize  that  her  people  were  not  real. 

Mrs.     Vincent's    fiftieth    anniversary    as    an 

59 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

actress  was  celebrated  at  the  Boston  Museum, 
April  25,  1885.  The  program  for  the  after- 
noon was  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer", — Mrs. 
Vincent  was  Mrs.  Hardcastle,  —  and  in  the 
evening,  "The  Rivals",  with  Mrs.  Vincent  as 
Mrs.  Malaprop.  The  house  was  crowded  after- 
noon and  evening,  with  friends  both  outside 
and  in  the  theatrical  profession,  who  joined  to 
do  her  honor.  At  the  close  of  the  performance, 
she  received  an  ovation,  and  responded  in  a 
few  words,  expressing  her  deep  pleasure  and 
gratitude. 

She  played  hundreds  of  parts  and  every  line 
of  character.  I  am  powerless  to  describe  her 
humor  and  charm  as  she  impressed  me.  How 
delightful  she  was  in  Irish  plays !  Conn's 
mother  in  the  "Shaughraun",  and  Shiela  Mann 
in  the  "Colleen  Bawn",  were  a  delight  to  the 
children  as  well  as  to  the  grown-ups.  It  has 
been  said  that  Mrs.  Vincent  in  her  youth  ex- 
celled equally  in  emotional  as  well  as  in  comedy 
parts.     I  know  she  delighted  in  emotional  roles, 

60 


MRS.   J.    R.   VINCENT 

such  as  the  Mother  in  "Article  47",  and  the 
Widow  Melnotte  in  the  "Ladv  of  Lyons." 
She  told  me  these  were  her  "pet  parts."  At 
one  time,  when  she  played  the  Widow  Melnotte 
with  Edwin  Forrest,  Mr.  Forrest  sent  for  her 
to  take  a  curtain  call  with  Pauline  and  Claude, 
after  the  fourth  act.  When  she  modestly  de- 
murred, he  assured  her  that  her  work  was  de- 
servedly appreciated,  and  that  she  must  take 
the  call. 

Her  last  part  was  in  "The  Dominie's 
Daughter."  She  was  feeling  ill  at  the  theater 
on  Wednesday,  but  on  Thursday  was  much 
better.  Then,  on  Sunday  morning,  September 
7,  1887,  she  died.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  us. 
I  understudied  so  many  of  her  parts  in  the  old 
days  that  I  felt  it  with  especial  keenness.  She 
was  always  conscientious,  and  even  when  she 
was  so  ill  that  it  was  almost  impossible  for  her 
to  get  dressed  for  her  parts,  she  would  go  on 
and  play  even  better  than  usual,  if  possible, 
and  perhaps  collapse  at  the  end  of  the  play.     I 

61 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

was  very  ambitious  in  those  days,  but  I  didn't 
dare  suggest  my  willingness  to  play  in  her 
stead.  I  only  hoped  for  the  chance.  I  have 
been  told  that  I  imitated  Mrs.  Vincent,  and 
even  in  later  days,  when  friends  have  said  I 
reminded  them  of  her,  I  am  nattered.  Why 
shouldn't  it  be  so  ?  She  was  my  model,  and 
inspired  me  in  my  girlhood. 

I  haven't  spoken  very  much  of  her  acting, 
for  it  is  not  only  as  an  actress  Boston  idolized 
Mrs.  Vincent,  but  as  a  lovable,  charitable, 
Christian  woman.  She  left  as  a  monument  the 
Vincent  Hospital  for  Women,  which,  as  a  trib- 
ute to  its  founder,  is  being  supported  by  her 
many  friends  and  admirers. 


62 


CHAPTER  V 

Miss  Annie  M.  Clarke 

ANNIE  M.  CLARKE  made  her  entree  on 
life's  stage  on  Christmas  Day,  in  the 
year  1846,  at  South  Boston.  Her  father  died 
when  she  was  less  than  two  years  old,  and  to 
help  her  mother  eke  out  an  existence,  little 
Annie  was  carried  on  the  stage  in  baby  parts. 
When  she  was  six  years  old,  she  appeared  as 
one  of  the  tiny  pickaninnies  in  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin." 

In  the  same  play  were  William  Warren  and 
Mrs.  Vincent.  From  that  time  on,  the  little 
child-actress  became  their  special  charge,  and 
the  warmth  of  that  friendship  never  waned. 
Another  child's  part  that  brought  her  in  close 
touch  with  these  two  was  in  "The  Silver 
Spoon",   produced    in    the    year    1852.       Miss 

63 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Clarke  was  announced  on  the  bills  as  "Little 
Polly."  The  play  afforded  Mr.  Warren  one  of 
his  most  famous  characters,  Jefferson  Scattering 
Batkins,  and  Mrs.  Vincent  was  inimitable  as 
Hannah  Partridge.  "The  Silver  Spoon"  was 
presented  annually  for  thirty  years,  but  the 
child's  part  was  eliminated  after  a  time,  so  was 
played  only  by  "Little  Polly." 

Miss  Clarke  went  to  the  Boston  Theater  in 
1857,  appearing  as  one  of  the  fairies  in  "Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream."  Later  she  played 
two  seasons  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum  under 
the  management  of  E.  L.  Davenport.  Finally, 
in  the  season  of  1 861-1862,  she  drifted  back  to 
the  Boston  Museum,  having  become  a  grown- 
up, —  that  is,  having  grown  from  girlhood  into 
comparatively  long  dresses.  Her  reappearance 
was  as  Euphemia  Cholmondeley  in  the  play 
"Men  of  the  Day."  She  was  engaged  as 
"walking  lady",  and  jokingly  said  it  was  lucky 
she  was  playing  "walking"  parts,  for  she  found 
herself  walking  out  of  her  frocks  at  an  appalling 

64 


MISS  ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

rate.  Fortunately,  the  dress  worn  by  the  "walk- 
ing lady"  of  that  day  was  usually  a  simple  muslin 
made  up  with  tucks  and  deep  hems  that  could 
be  let  down  as  emergencies  demanded. 

She  labored  on  steadily,  making  the  most  of 
her  opportunities,  always  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency, and  because  of  her  faithfulness,  soon 
becoming  invaluable  to  the  management.  She 
made  her  way  so  surely,  indeed,  that  when  Miss 
Josie  Orton  left  the  Company,  Miss  Clarke  was 
instantly  put  in  her  place.  There  was  no 
question  of  her  ability  to  play  seconds  and 
juveniles  to  Miss  Kate  Reignolds,  who  was 
leading  woman  at  the  Boston  Museum  at  that 
time.  Shortly  after  that,  Miss  Kate  Denin 
became  the  leading  woman,  and  at  her  some- 
what abrupt  departure,  Miss  Clarke  was  pro- 
moted to  the  position,  which  she  retained  for 
more  than  twenty  years.  She  told  me  that  in 
her  salad  days  she  aspired  to  be  a  soubrette,  but 
she  shot  up  so  rapidly  that  she  decidedly  out- 
grew that  line  of  characters ;   in  fact,  however, 

6s 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

she  was  not  limited  to  any  one  class  of  work. 
She  played  all  kinds  of  parts  well.  In  her 
early  youth  she  was  splendid  in  boys'  parts,  — 
Oliver  Twist,  and  Pip  in  "Great  Expectations" 
being  especially  praiseworthy. 

She  acted  in  all  the  Shakespearean  plays 
that  are  commonly  produced,  excepting 
"Cymbeline"  and  "Twelfth  Night."  She  was 
to  have  played  Viola  in  "Twelfth  Night"  for 
her  benefit,  and  had  carefully  studied  the  part, 
but  on  the  week  before,  Adelaide  Neilson  came 
to  Boston  and  appeared  in  the  same  play,  so 
Miss  Clarke  put  the  book  away  in  her  desk  and 
never  played  Viola.  Her  one  great  ambition 
was  to  play  Hamlet.  She  had  played  Romeo 
to  the  Juliet  of  Louisa  Meyers,  Kate  Reignolds, 
and  Carlotta  LeClerq,  and  received  flattering 
praise  from  both  public  and  press.  She  had 
made  a  study  of  Hamlet,  but  somehow  the 
great  opportunity  never  presented  itself.  It 
seemed  a  pity ;  I  think  she  would  have  been  an 
ideal  Hamlet. 

66 


Annie-   M.    Clarke    as     'Peg  Woffington "   and   George  W. 

Wilson   as       Triplet" 


MISS  ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

The  plays  that  she  loved  best  were  those  she 
had  grown  up  in.  Peg  Woffington  in  "Masks 
and  Faces"  was  a  favorite  part.  In  that  play 
she  appeared  as  Roxanna  (Triplet's  child),  Kitty 
Clive,  Mabel  Vane,  and  we  know  how  delightful 
was  her  Peg.  She  played  Maria  in  "The  School 
for  Scandal"  long  before  she  played  Lady 
Teazle,  and  in  "Oliver  Twist"  she  was  in  turn 
Oliver,  Rose  Maylie,  and  Nancy  Sykes. 

Robertson's  "Caste"  was  entwined  with  fond 
memories  of  what  she  called  the  great  days  of 
the  Museum  and  her  golden  years.  Those  were 
the  years,  she  said,  when  Boston  had  two 
famous  stock  companies,  the  Boston  Museum 
and  Selwyn's.  There  was  great  rivalry  between 
the  two  houses,  and  when  "Caste"  was  first 
announced  for  a  reading,  the  manager  said  to 
the  Company  (that  was  on  Thursday  morning), 
"Can  we  play  this  play  on  Monday  night?" 
The  entire  Company,  as  if  one  voice,  said 
'We  will",  so  "Caste"  was  produced  at  the 
Museum  the  following  Monday  night,  and  scored 

67 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

one  of  the  most  phenomenal  successes  of  the 
house. 

She  said  there  was  another  rush  when  "Frou 
Frou"  was  brought  out.  It  was  learned  that 
Selwyn's  Company  had  the  manuscript,  in- 
tending to  have  the  honor  of  the  first  produc- 
tion in  Boston.  Mr.  Fred  Williams,  who  was 
the  stage  manager,  secured  a  copy  of  the  French 
play,  and,  setting  to  work  at  once,  rushed  out  a 
translation.  The  parts  were  given  out  piece- 
meal. One  act  of  the  play  was  being  rehearsed 
while  the  last  one  was  being  written,  and  in  a 
week  it  was  produced,  again  getting  ahead  of 
Selwyn's  Company. 

Those  were  no  doubt  exciting  days,  for  a 
little  competition  is  a  great  spur  to  endeavor, 
and  when  the  players  were  imbued  with  the 
feeling  that  they  were  playing  for  the  record 
of  the  Boston  Museum  as  against  its  rival,  such 
an  incentive  merged  individual  ambition  into 
a  greater  and  better  thing.  It  was  the  success 
of  the  production  that  they  were  working  for, 

68 


MISS  ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

—  not  individual  hits.  The  work  was  hard, 
but  the  certainty  of  mutual  help  made  it  seem 
light,  and,  too,  the  general  spirit  of  the 
members  must  have  been  very  like  that  of 
college  boys  who  are  trying  to  win  the  race  for 
their  Alma  Mater.  Such  feeling  is  a  great 
fosterer  of  esprit  de  corps,  and  Miss  Clarke, 
ever  loyal  to  the  management,  never  lost  that 
spirit. 

What  delightful  memories  cluster  about  the 
parts  in  which  Miss  Clarke  excelled  !  Countess 
Zicka  in  "Diplomacy" — how  full  of  splendid 
defiance!  Olivia  in  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield", 
Lady  Gay  Spanker  in  "London  Assurance", — 
has  that  part  ever  been  so  well  played  by  any 
other  actress  ? 

Miss  Clarke's  work  in  the  old  comedies  long 
will  be  remembered,  and  nobody  who  saw  her 
as  Lady  Teazle  will  ever  forget  the  elegance  and 
dignity  and  the  grand  manner  of  her  coming  on 
the  stage.  Suzanne  in  "A  Scrap  of  Paper" 
was  also  a  favorite  part  of  Miss  Clarke's.     She 

69 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

told  me  how  much  she  regretted,  when  the  play 
was  first  brought  out  in  Boston,  that  she  was 
not  able  to  play  Suzanne.  Miss  Clarke  and 
Mr.  Barron  were  to  play  the  leading  characters, 
but  Mr.  Barron  unfortunately  fell  ill  with 
pneumonia,  and  at  the  very  time  the  news  of 
his  illness  reached  the  theater,  Miss  Clarke 
narrowly  escaped  death.  She  was  standing  on 
the  stage  with  Mr.  Hardenberg  and  Mr.  Pit- 
man, running  over  the  lines  of  "Heir-at-Law", 
when  suddenly  a  heavy  curtain-roller  fell  from 
its  position,  and  in  its  plunge  to  the  stage 
struck  all  three  actors.  No  one  was  dangerously 
injured,  but  the  effect  upon  Miss  Clarke  would 
have  been  serious,  so  the  doctor  said,  had  not 
Mr.  Warren,  in  assisting  her  to  her  dressing 
room,  by  chance  pressed  back  the  bone  in  her 
neck  which  had  been  dislocated.  It  was  this 
accident  which  prevented  Miss  Clarke  from 
appearing  at  the  initial  performance. 

Miss  Clarke  greatly  missed  Mr.  Warren  and 
Mrs.   Vincent,   with   whom   she  was  associated 

70 


MISS  ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

all  her  life.  Her  dressing  room  overlooked 
Court  Square,  and  in  a  cozy  nook  in  the  corner 
was  Mrs.  Vincent's  old  rocking-chair,  which 
stood  for  so  many  years  in  her  dressing  room, 
and  after  her  death  was  placed  in  her  god- 
child's room.  The  arm-chair  bore  the  same 
linen  cover  and  the  same  cushions  in  its  old- 
fashioned  but  comfortable  frame  as  when  the 
dear  old  lady  was  wont  to  take  little  naps 
between  the  acts.  In  speaking  once  of  Mr. 
Warren,  Miss  Clarke  said  the  words  of  the  old 
plays  spoke  to  her  not  in  the  new  voices  but  in 
the  old.     She  said  : 

"I  was  going  to  my  dressing  room.  I  found 
myself  pausing  by  the  door  of  the  room  that 
had  been  Mr.  Warren's  as  I  used  to  pause  for 
that  never-failing  'Good  evening,  Anna', 
which  always  so  heartened  me  for  my  work, 
and  then  in  a  moment  there  came  over  me 
such  a  rush  of  homesickness  and  loneliness, 
and  the  world  was  a  place  of  chills  and  shadows, 
and  nothing  was  real  but  what  has  ceased  to  be. 

71 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

"  No  one  can  know,  who  was  not  acquainted 
with  the  full  loveliness  and  nobility  of  Mr. 
Warren's  character,  his  sensitive  tenderness  of 
heart,  his  beautiful  courtesy.  I  used  to  look 
forward  to  matinee  days  as  to  high  holidays, 
for  then  for  years  I  shared  the  lunch  of  Mr. 
Warren  and  Mrs.  Vincent." 

Again  Miss  Clarke  has  said:  "I  may  say  I 
was  fore-ordained  to  the  footlights  from  my 
christening,  by  the  godmother  who  did  prom- 
ise for  me.  Dear  Mrs.  Vincent  was  my  god- 
mother. I  was  christened  Anna,  but  Mr. 
Barrow,  the  manager,  thought  Annie  looked 
better  on  the  bill,  so  he  rechristened  me.  Of 
course  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  submit.  He 
assured  me  that  it  sounded  much  better,  espe- 
cially as  it  was  the  fashion  at  that  time.  Yet 
I  never  liked  the  name  so  much  as  Anna.  Mr. 
Warren  till  the  end  of  his  life  called  me  Anna." 

Dear  Annie  Clarke  was,  without  exception, 
the  most  womanly  woman  I  have  ever  met,  — 
a    wholesome,    noble    character.     She    was    a 

72 


MISS  ANNIE   M.   CLARKE 

great  lover  of  nature,  and  I  remember  that  she 
used  to  scatter  bits  of  worsted  about  the  lawn 
of  her  pretty  Needham  home  to  assist  the  birds 
in  nest  building.  She  was  above  all  a  devoted 
daughter.  Her  charities  were  many,  but  she 
gave  as  unostentatiously  as  she  lived. 

Realizing  in  her  prime  that  the  younger 
generation  was  knocking  at  the  door,  she  re- 
tired from  the  Museum  stage  and  the  position 
of  leading  woman  that  she  had  occupied  for 
twenty  years,  and  took  a  farewell  benefit  on 
February  27,  1886.  Not  until  1892  did  the 
Boston  public  realize  her  permanent  retire- 
ment. Then  some  of  the  most  prominent 
citizens  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and  arranged 
a  testimonial,  to  give  Bostonians  a  chance  to 
show  their  appreciation  of  Annie  Clarke  as  an 
actress  and  a  woman.  The  testimonial  was 
arranged  for  May  26,  1892,  and  was  to  be 
given  independent  of  the  management  of  the 
Museum.  A  committee  of  prominent  citizens 
rented  the  theater  for  that  purpose. 

73 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

The  following  correspondence  explains  itself  : 

Miss  Annie  Clarke  : 

Dear  Madam  :  —  I  have  been  intrusted  with 
the  following  request  from  some  of  your  hosts 
of  friends,  and  shall  be  glad  to  consult  with  you 
at  any  time  you  may  appoint.  Pray  let  me 
add  that  on  all  sides  I  hear  deep  regrets  at  the 
prospect  of  losing  you  from  the  Museum,  where 
we  have  derived  so  much  enjoyment  at  your 
hands,  and  where  we  had  hoped  you  might 
continue  a  link  in  the  chain  which  binds  us 
older  patrons  to  the  past.  The  enclosed  peti- 
tion should  have  been  made  as  long  as  Bunker 
Hill  monument,  but  the  present  names  will, 
we  hope,  appeal  to  you  as  earnestly  as  if  indefi- 
nitely prolonged. 

Very  Truly  Yours, 
Henry  S.  Russell. 

Miss  Annie  Clarke  : 

Madam  —  In  view  of  your  proposed  retire- 
ment from  the  Boston  stage,  your  friends  will 
be  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  express  to  you 
their  appreciation  of  admirable  work  which 
for  so  many  years  has  identified  you  with  the 
Museum's  success,  and  hope  that  you  will 
appoint  an  early  day  on  which  they  may  ar- 
range the  necessary  details,  in  deference  to  your 
convenience. 

Yours  truly, 

Henry  Lee. 

Frederick  Ames. 

74 


MISS   ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

Henry  S.  Russell. 
Charles  Fairchild. 
E.  Rollins  Morse. 
Robert  H.  Stevenson. 
Oliver  W.  Peabody. 
Arthur  Hunnewell. 
Robert  G.  Shaw. 
Henry  G.  Parker. 
Francis  H.  Appleton. 
Francis  Parkman. 
Thos.  L.  Livermore. 

H.    L.    HlGGINSON. 

John  H.  Holmes. 
Charles  H.  Taylor. 
Curtis  Guild. 

Col.  Henry  S.  Russell  : 

Dear  Sir,  —  In  response  to  your  flattering 
note  of  April  22nd.  enclosing  me  the  petition 
requesting  me  to  accept  a  benefit  as  a  mark  of 
the  appreciation  in  which  my  Boston  friends 
are  so  kind  to  hold  me,  let  me  express  to  you 
and  the  gentlemen  whose  names  are  affixed  to 
the  petition,  my  heart-felt  gratitude,  assuring 
them  that  of  all  the  pleasant  recollections  of 
my  service  at  the  Museum  none  will  remain 
more  deeply  impressed  on  my  memory  than 
the  gracious  compliment  which  will  close  my 
career  there. 

Sincerely, 
Annie  M.  Clarke. 


75 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

The  plays  selected  were  "Masks  and  Faces", 
"A  Scrap  of  Paper",  and  "Sweethearts."  Jack 
Mason,  who  had  been  very  popular  with 
Museum  audiences,  came  over  from  New  York 
to  play  the  part  of  Spreadbrow.  Many  artists 
volunteered  their  services,  and  among  those 
who  appeared  were  Henry  Dixey,  Alexander 
Salvini,  William  Seymour,  Mary  Shaw,  Marie 
Jansen,  and  Marion  Manola.  I  deeply  re- 
gretted not  being  able  to  take  part,  but  Mr. 
Field  had  loaned  my  services  to  Mr.  Lewis 
Morrison  to  play  Martha  in  "Faust",  and  May 
Robson  played  my  part  of  Mrs.  Triplet  in 
"Masks  and  Faces." 

The  testimonial  was  a  great  success,  artis- 
tically, financially,  and  socially.  Miss  Clarke 
was  very  much  touched  by  the  demonstration 
given  her  by  that  great  assemblage.  There 
are  tears  and  tears.  Those  shed  at  the  Museum 
that  afternoon  were  as  warm  as  June  raindrops, 
and  came  welling  up  from  hearts  full  of  tender 
regard  for  Boston's  one  and  only  Annie  Clarke. 

76 


MISS   ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

The  familiar  lines  of  the  tag  of  "Masks  and 
Faces"  seemed  to  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  the 
occasion,  and  Miss  Clarke  read  them  as  if  they 
came  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  as  they 
doubtless  did. 

As  she  finished,  Miss  Mary  Shaw  stepped 
forward  on  the  stage,  followed  by  the  entire 
company,  and  spoke  a  short  epilogue  written 
for  the  occasion,  at  the  conclusion  presenting 
Miss  Clarke  with  a  laurel  wreath.  The  poem 
was  by  Miss  Louise  Imogene  Guiney,  and  seemed 
so  fitting  for  the  occasion  that  its  reproduction 
here  is  given  for  memory's  sake. 

"Nay,  all's  not  over.     As  we  see  you  clad 
In  womanhood  your  great  forerunner  had, 
(Who,  if  her  gracious  portraits  speak  her  true, 
Looked,  moved,  indeed,  dear  Peg  of  ours,  like 

you.) 
O,  stay  awhile.     The  bell  that  sounds  to-night 
Intones  a  little  knell  for  old  delight, 
And  from  this  painted  heaven  many  a  thing 
Sweetly  with  you  must  vanish,  wing  to  wing. 
Too  bright  a  spot  it  is  to  breathe  'good-bye', 
Where  long  beneath  a  patch  of  playhouse  sky, 
Our  modern  Boston  (who'll  believe  it  ?)  stood 
All  happy,  all  intelligent,  all  good : 

77 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

Where  amid  welcomes,  fellowship,  applause, 
And  mutual  wit,  and  worth  that  wins  her  cause, 
And  kind  dead  faces,  tender  memories, 
Rang  your  own  voice  that  passes  not  with  these. 

"Honor  is  due  you.     How  your  orbit  lay 
In  quiet  paths  of  home  and  yesterday, 
Bringing  the  dull  uncivil  time's  extreme, 
The  sly  fine  dames  of  our  grandsires'  dream ; 
How  you  lent  truth  to  sorrow,  fire  to  scorn, 
To  hatefulness  a  something  nobly  born ; 
How  no  least  task  to  you  could  ever  fall 
But  full  perfection  crowned  it :   how  in  all 
Naught  cheap  or  common  touched  you,  and 

your  part 
Seemed  often  but  to  hide  too  high  a  heart, 
Let  men  hereafter  tell.     For  what  we  owe, 
Our  thanks  do  hang  the  head.     Where'er  you 

go 
The  town  shall  follow,  Peg ;   and  since  in  truth 
You  gave  us  here  your  genius  and  your  youth, 
Take  from  this  trysting  place  of  thirty  years 
Health,  luck,  godspeed  and  love  too  proud  for 

tears." 


Then  followed  a  more  touching  incident  when 
Mr.  Burrows  stepped  forward  and  presented 
Miss  Clarke  with  a  gold  locket  set  with  dia- 
monds, from  the  members  of  the  Company. 
His   speech  was   impromptu,   spoken   with   sin- 

78 


MISS  ANNIE  M.   CLARKE 

cerity  and  true  feeling.  Mr.  Burrows  was 
selected  because  of  his  long  association  with 
the  Museum.  He  played  that  evening  the  part 
of  Snarl,  the  same  part  he  played  with  Miss 
Clarke  when  she  made  her  debut  in  1867,  in 
the  role  of  Peg. 

Miss  Clarke  later  joined  the  Julia  Marlowe 
Company,  where  she  remained  until  her  death, 
May  22,  1902,  which  occurred  in  Chicago,  after 
a  short  illness. 

It  is,  alas,  the  fate  of  the  actor  to  be  admired 
in  life  and  soon  forgotten,  but  dear  Annie 
Clarke  has  sown  seeds  in  the  hearts  of  her 
friends  that  will  bloom  till  the  end  of  time. 


79 


CHAPTER  VI 

Charles  Barron 

CHARLES  BARRON,  who  was  Charles 
Brown  in  private  life,  the  name  Barron 
having  been  assumed  for  professional  purposes, 
was  born  in  Boston,  January  22,  1840.  He 
saw  all  of  the  plays  and  players  of  that  period, 
and  was  a  true  Boston  boy  in  all  that  the  words 
imply.  Educated  in  Boston,  he  passed  his  boy- 
hood and  early  manhood  here,  and  finally  de- 
cided to  take  to  the  stage.  Of  course  his  family 
objected,  as  any  staid  family  rejoicing  in  the 
eminently  respectable  name  of  Brown  would 
have  been  expected  to  do.  But  Young  America 
would  have  his  fling,  and  Mr.  Barron  made  his 
first  appearance  on  any  stage  at  Portland, 
Maine,  August  20,  i860.  An  extract  from  the 
program  reads  thus : 

80 


CHARLES   BARRON 


"First  Appearance  of  Mr.  C.  Barron,  who  will 

appear    as   the    Stage-Struck    Barber   with 

imitations  of  celebrated  actors." 

The  performance  opened  with  Miss  Susan 
Denin  in  the  tragedy  of  "Ion,  the  Foundling", 
and    concluded   with    "The   Widow's   Victim", 


cast  as  follows : 

Jeremiah  Clip  (with  imita- 
tions) 
Mr.  Twitter 
Pelham  Podge 
Mrs.  Rattleton 
Jane  Chatterly 
Mrs.  Twitter     . 


Mr.  C.  Barron 
Mr.  F.  A.  Chaplin 
Mr.  W.  Cappell 
Mrs.  F.  S.  Kent 
Jessie  Macfarland 
Min  LeClaire 


Mr.  Barron  had  attained  much  prominence 
in  Buffalo  before  joining  the  Museum  Com- 
pany. In  1867  he  was  tendered  a  grand  com- 
plimentary benefit  by  the  mayor  and  citizens 
of  that  city  and  was  billed  as  the  "Popular 
Young  American  Tragedian." 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  January,  1869,  "a 
well  graced  actor"  played  Mercutio  in  "Romeo 
and  Juliet"  at  the  Boston  Museum.  Those 
who  noted  a  new  face  on  that  stage  glanced  at 

81 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

their  play-bills  and  saw  the  name  of  Charles 
Barron.  They  witnessed  a  very  fine  perform- 
ance of  the  part  that  night,  and  no  doubt 
some  of  them  secretly  wished  that  this 
splendidly  equipped  actor  might  be  added  to 
the  list  of  those  they  were  wont  to  see  in  that 
dear  old  house.  The  withdrawal  of  Mr.  L.  R. 
Shewell  soon  made  this  wish  a  fact,  and  Charles 
Barron  became  a  regular  member  of  the  Com- 
pany, bringing  his  splendid  personality  and 
indescribable  talent  to  this  new  field.  What 
a  field  it  was !  And  what  an  admirable  ex- 
ponent of  the  art  of  acting  this  virile,  handsome 
man  became,  when  he  took  his  place  in  the 
midst  of  his  peers  on  that  famous  stage ! 
Comedy  and  characters  were  already  in  good 
hands,  but  here  came  a  new  "Knight  of  The 
Sock  and  Buskin",  who  could  add  to  the  al- 
ready well  equipped  Company  the  highest  walk 
of  the  drama  —  Tragedy. 

If    I    were  to   attempt    to    detail    his    many 
triumphs,    it   would    include    practically    all    of 

82 


CHARLES   BARRON 

the  plays  in  which  he  appeared.  He  was  light 
and  fanciful  in  the  comedies  from  the  French 
and  superb  in  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare. 
His  advent  made  it  possible  to  inaugurate  the 
custom  of  playing  Saturday  nights,  which,  up 
to  that  time,  had  not  been  practised  at  the 
Museum.  A  series  of  classic  plays  was  tried 
on  Saturday  evenings,  with  so  much  success 
that  it  soon  became  the  regular  policy  of  the 
house. 

Charles  Barron  was  the  most  versatile  actor 
of  his  time,  —  I  may  say  the  very  best  actor 
who  attempted  such  a  large  number  of  dis- 
similar parts.  When  I  think  of  him  as  Charles 
Surface,  Richelieu,  Hugh  de  Bras,  Jean  Renaud, 
Dei  Franchi,  Ruy  Bias,  Sir  Edward  Mortimer, 
Sir  Giles  Overreach,  Rover,  Young  Marlowe, 
Salem  Scudder,  Charles  Cashmore,  Richard 
III,  Shylock,  Macbeth,  Bill  Sykes,  Shaun,  the 
Post,  Danny  Mann,  and  scores  of  other  roles, 
I  am  simply  lost  in  wonder  that  this  man 
could    have    played    them    all,    from    night    to 

83 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

night,  and  played  them  so  well.  What  a 
capacity  he  had  to  memorize  all  those  lines ! 
He  was  never  known  to  need  the  aid  of  the 
prompter,  and  was  always  ready  to  give  the 
word  to  a  companion  in  the  scene  with  him. 
One  can  hardly  estimate  the  value  of  such  a 
man  in  giving  strength  and  smoothness  to  a 
scene  that  without  him  might  perhaps  go 
haltingly. 

I  recall  his  performance  of  Dick  Arkwright 
in  Tom  Taylor's  play  "Arkwright's  Wife." 
Mr.  Barron  was  an  excellent  Dick  Arkwright, 
bright  and  lively  in  the  first  act,  honest,  manly, 
and  true  in  the  second,  and  sadly  pathetic  in 
the  last.  An  amusing  contretemps  occurred 
in  the  last  act,  which  was  hugely  relished  by  the 
audience.  A  festival  is  given  in  honor  of  the 
recently  knighted  Sir  Richard  Arkwright  on 
his  return  from  London,  and  as  he  enters  he 
is  supposed  to  be  greeted  with  shouts  and 
cheers  from  the  enthusiastic  populace.  On  this 
occasion    the    populace    forgot    to    shout,    and 

84 


CHARLES   BARRON 

after  waiting  some  time,  Mr.  Barron's  voice 
was  heard  behind  the  scenes  in  a  loud  whisper, 
saying,  "Shout!  Shout!  Why  don't  you 
shout?"  Whereupon  one  lone  man,  with  a 
shrill,  falsetto  voice,  piped  out  "Welcome,  Sir 
Knight",  and  Mr.  Barron  dashed  on,  beaming 
and  bowing  acknowledgment  right  and  left, 
saying,  "Ah !  kind  friends,  you  overwhelm 
me."  The  audience  appreciated  the  situation, 
and  he  was  given  a  hearty  welcome. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  portrayal  Mr. 
Barron  essayed  during  his  long  career  at  the 
Museum  was  that  of  Jean  Renaud  in  "A 
Celebrated  Case."  Never  have  I  seen  more 
powerful  acting.  In  the  play  he  was  mis- 
takenly accused  and  convicted  of  the  murder 
of  his  wife  by  the  testimony  of  his  own  little 
daughter,  and  sentenced  for  life  as  a  galley 
slave.  If  this  situation  were  to  happen  in  real 
life,  one  can  easily  imagine  what  a  strain  it 
would  be  upon  the  heartstrings  of  an  innocent 
man.     The  child  was   then  six  years  old,   and 

85 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

was  adopted  later  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
D'Aubterre  (played  by  Mr.  Burrows  and  my- 
self). After  twelve  years,  the  young  girl,  while 
on  a  visit  of  mercy  among  the  prisoners,  was 
attracted  by  the  sadness  and  hopelessness  of 
one  of  the  men,  and  from  his  story  learned  that 
he  was  her  own  father.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  intense  power  of  his  acting.  I  was  then 
witnessing  something  absolutely  real.  I  forgot 
my  own  mission  there,  and  sobbed  aloud  on 
the  stage. 

Mr.  Barron's  portrayal  of  the  unfortunate 
man  was  vigorous  throughout,  and  was  char- 
acterized by  a  temperance  of  expression  that 
was  in  every  way  commendable.  His  make- 
up as  a  French  convict  was  a  triumph,  and 
most  effectively  concealed  his  personality.  One 
of  the  finest  bits  of  acting  ever  seen  on  this 
stage  was  his  parting  with  the  child.  He 
evidently  felt  the  situation  in  every  fiber  of 
his  body,  and  the  tears  which  coursed  down  his 
cheeks    showed   that    for    the    time    being,    the 

86 


CHARLES   BARRON 

scene  was  to  him  a  reality.  He  never  did  any- 
thing better  during  his  entire  career,  and  it  is 
to  be  doubted  if  any  actor  on  the  American 
stage  at  that  or  any  other  time  could  have  so 
completely  identified  himself  with  the  role. 

A  fine  example  of  Mr.  Barron  in  his  lighter 
efforts  was  offered  by  the  part  of  Charles  Cash- 
more  in  "My  Uncle's  Will."  He  was  the 
originator  of  this  role  in  the  United  States, 
and  played  it  so  many  times  at  the  Museum 
that  it  became  a  classic  in  its  way.  Miss  Annie 
Clarke  was  equally  brilliant  as  Florence,  so  that 
their  combined  efforts  created  an  impression 
that  lasted  long  after  they  had  ceased  to  be 
members  of  the  Museum  Company. 

I  recall  one  occasion  at  the  Boston  Theater 
when  that  lofty  temple  was  crowded  as  it  had 
never  been  before  since  Patti's  first  farewell. 
All  Boston  had  come  that  day  to  attend  the 
"Press  Club  Benefit."  It  has  often  been  said 
that  the  labors  of  an  active  newspaper  man  are 
not  appreciated  by  the  general  public  as  much 

87 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

as  they  deserve  to  be.  No  doubt  there  are 
many  members  of  the  Boston  Press  who  be- 
lieve this,  and  for  them  it  must  have  been  a 
most  agreeable  surprise  to  see  the  host  of 
friends  who  had  braved  the  storm  to  help  along 
the  success  of  their  first  attempt  at  giving  a 
public   entertainment. 

There  were  attractions  from  all  of  the  theaters, 
but  probably  the  most  interesting  feature  of  the 
program  was  "My  Uncle's  Will",  given  by  the 
trio  who  had  made  this  comedietta  so  famous  : 
Mr.  Charles  Barron,  Mr.  James  Burrows,  and 
Miss  Annie  Clarke.  It  was  unlikely  that  these 
three  would  ever  again  act  together,  and  this  fact, 
of  course,  added  greatly  to  the  interest  of  the  pro- 
duction. It  was  a  unanimous  verdict  that  never 
had  the  comedy  been  acted  so  well.  Miss  Clarke 
had  never  looked  more  charming,  and  one  could 
not  help  feeling  a  personal  regret  that  she  had 
left  our  stage.  The  two  gentlemen  fairly  outdid 
themselves.  Such  a  reception  as  they  received 
must  have  been  most  agreeable.     The  applause 

88 


u 


c 
c 

< 


CHARLES   BARRON 

was  so  unrestrained  that  it  was  several  minutes 
after  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Barron  and  Miss 
Clarke  before  they  were  able  to  speak. 

Mr.  Barron  was  usually  cast  for  long  and 
exacting  leading  roles,  so  that  when  he  had  an 
opportunity  for  a  little  frolic  in  trifles  like 
Hugh  deBras,  he  let  himself  loose  like  a  mettle- 
some colt.  He  fairly  reveled  in  this  light 
comedy  part,   and  was  surely  unrivaled    in    it. 

When  he  left  the  Museum  to  travel  with  Mr. 
John  McCullough,  it  was  to  play  almost  the 
same  line  of  exacting  parts  he  had  been  pre- 
senting with  us,  alternating  with  Mr.  McCul- 
lough in  "Othello"  and  "Iago",  and  giving 
his  same  splendid  impersonation  of  Edgar  in 
"King  Lear"  that  we  had  all  seen  many  times 
with  Mr.  Edwin  Booth  at  the  Museum. 

He  created  a  veritable  sensation  at  Wallack's 
Theater  in  New  York  when  "Clarissa  Harlowe" 
was  produced,  and  really  carried  ofT  the  honors, 
even  with  such  actors  as  Charles  and  Rose 
Coghlan    in   the   cast.     We   were  not  surprised 

89 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

at  this,  for  we  had  seen  him  emerge  trium- 
phantly from  so  many  trying  situations  that 
we  had  come  to  feel  that  "In  his  vocabulary 
there  was  no  such  word  as  fail." 

Mr.  Barron  has  been  retired  for  years,  and 
lives  a  comfortably  secluded  life  with  his  family 
in  Roxbury,  Massachusetts.  He  has  two 
granddaughters  who  have  followed  the  foot- 
steps of  their  illustrious  grandfather.  Their 
stage  names  are  Beverly  West  and  Madeleine 
Moore. 


90 


CHAPTER  VII 
Salad  Days 

1AM  sure  that  in  my  salad  days  I  was  the 
cause  of  much  mental  disturbance  to  the 
management.  I  remember  one  incident  that 
occurred  at  the  beginning  of  my  career.  It 
happened  on  a  holiday,  and  there  was  a  crowded 
house.  Some  of  my  schoolmates,  when  they 
learned  I  had  become  an  actress  (!),  formed  a 
theater-party  and  occupied  the  front  row, 
planning  to  surprise  me.  I  can  only  remember 
that  it  was  a  spectacular  play,  and  I  was 
selected  to  represent  a  cupbearer.  At  the 
rise  of  the  curtain,  I  was  discovered  standing 
on  a  pedestal,  gorgeously  displayed  in  tinsel, 
a  golden  goblet  held  in  one  hand,  in  the  other, 
a  golden  pitcher  gracefully  poised.  I  was 
overjoyed    at    seeing    my    friends,    and    bowed 

91 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

and  smiled  and  waved  my  pitcher  at  them. 
During  the  various  transformation  scenes,  as 
the  curtain  rose  and  fell,  I  was  still  seen  waving 
the  pitcher,  bowing  and  smiling. 

The  final  curtain  descended,  and  poor  Mr. 
Williams,  rushing  wildly  on  the  stage,  shouted, 
"Don't  you  ever  DARE  to  do  that  again!" 
No  danger,  I  can  tell  you ;  I  never  did !  The 
only  thing  that  surprises  me  now  is  that  I  was 
not  forced  to  a  farewell  appearance. 

My  first  speaking  part  was  in  the  "Road  to 
Ruin,"  in  which  I  was  cast  for  the  part  of  a 
maid  with  a  single  line,  "Precisely  at  nine, 
Ma'am."  I  studied  the  speech,  putting  the 
emphasis  first  on  one  word  and  then  on  the 
other,  had  dress  rehearsals  all  by  myself,  and 
at  last  concluded  I  was  letter  perfect  and 
artistically  correct.  The  night  of  the  perform- 
ance arrived.  I  was  ready  and  waiting  at  the 
entrance  for  my  cue,  but  when  it  came,  I  was 
powerless  to  move.  The  stage  manager  thrust 
me  on,  and  I  stood  there  speechless.     I  could 

92 


SALAD   DAYS 

hear  him  hoarsely  begging  me  to  come  off.     I 
don't  know  how  I  managed  to  obey,  but  I  did. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  the  line  ?"  demanded 
the  irate  stage  manager. 

I  said,  "I  thought  I  did,"  and  there  is  a 
doubt  in  my  mind  even  now  as  to  the  cer- 
tainty of  that  spoken  line. 

At  one  time  I  was  ambitious  to  become  a 
ballet  dancer.  The  idea  presented  itself  after 
seeing  the  Rigl  Sisters  dance,  and  on  my  way 
home,  I  saw  stage  dancing  advertised  at  fifty 
cents  a  lesson.  After  considering  the  matter 
carefully,  I  decided  to  make  the  plunge,  and 
invested  one  dollar  in  two  lessons.  During  the 
interview  a  pair  of  spangled  red  shoes  was  pre- 
sented to  my  view ;  for  another  dollar  I  might 
possess  them.  Though  they  were  much  worn, 
—  though  carefully  darned,  —  and  my  feet  were 
somewhat  cramped  in  them,  nevertheless  they 
were  little  red  shoes  with  spangles.  To  me  they 
were  very  beautiful,  —  and  for  one  dollar  they 
would  be  my  very  own  !     On  my  next  visit  I 

93 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

bought  them,  but  I  had  some  difficulty  in  en- 
joying my  little  red  shoes,  as  my  family  were 
not  aware  of  my  ambition  to  become  a  ballet 
dancer.  After  retiring  to  my  room  at  night, 
I  would  place  them  first  on  a  chair  near  my 
bed,  so  I  could  admire  them  by  lamplight, 
then  tie  them  on  the  bedpost,  and  often  even 
get  out  of  bed  after  I  had  put  out  my  light,  and 
strike  a  match  in  order  again  to  admire  them. 
Several  falls  in  the  seclusion  of  my  chamber 
and  a  real  heart-to-heart  talk  with  Manager 
Williams,  however,  convinced  me  that  nature 
never  intended  me  for  a  ballet  dancer. 

Another  discouraging  incident  occurred  while 
we  were  playing  "Robert  Macaire."  During 
an  old-fashioned  country  dance,  we  were 
dancing  madly  "All  hands  around",  when  my 
partner  let  go  my  hand.  The  scene  closed, 
shutting  me  out,  and  I  found  myself  sitting  on 
the  stage  in  full  view  of  the  audience,  and 
alone.  I  was  obliged  to  get  up  and  make  a 
hasty   exit,   which    the   audience   enjoyed,    if   I 

94 


SALAD   DAYS 

didn't.  I  was  heartbroken,  and  shed  bitter 
tears  on  my  way  to  the  dressing  room.  I 
remember  Mr.  Harry  Crisp,  who  was  a  hand- 
some, splendid  actor  of  that  day  and  an  adored 
"Matinee  Idol"  (he  was  a  brother  of  the  late 
Speaker  Crisp  of  the  United  States  House  of 
Representatives),  and  Nate  Salsbury  tried  to 
console  me,  but  I  was  inconsolable.  I  felt  that 
my  career  had  come  to  an  end. 

Mr.  Salsbury  was  a  good  actor  and  a  good 
dreamer  as  well.  It  is  told  of  him  that  in  his 
sleep  he  saw  visions  of  his  future  success.  He 
was  once  heard  to  mutter  in  his  dreams,  "Who 
is  Barnum?"  "What  are  three  rings?  I'll 
have  five  in  my  show."  And  he  did,  in  a 
measure,  as  the  producer  of  "Black  America." 
He  became  a  partner  of  Buffalo  Bill  in  the 
Wild  West  Show  and  made  a  fortune  from  that 
venture. 

My  recollection  of  the  younger  men  of  the 
Company  is  somewhat  vague,  for  the  reason, 
perhaps,   that   shortly   after  I  joined  the  Com- 

95 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

pany,  James  Nolan  attracted  me,  and  so  com- 
pletely claimed  my  attention  and  spare  moments 
that  we  were  married,  April  13,  1873,  after  a  six 
months'  courtship.  To  his  fine  character  and 
dramatic  discrimination  I  owe  much. 

Of  the  young  actresses  in  the  Company,  those 
who  claimed  my  admiration  were  Mary  Cary, 
Laura  Phillips,  and  Amy  Ames.  Mary  Cary  was 
a  charming  little  actress  with  a  most  fascinat- 
ing personality,  both  on  and  off  the  stage. 
She  excelled  in  parts  such  as  Poor  Joe  in 
"Bleak  House"  and  Oliver  Twist  in  the  play 
of  "Oliver  Twist",  and  was  one  of  the  best 
ingenues  of  that  day.  She  was  adored  by  the 
members  of  the  Company. 

Collecting  souvenirs  was  her  delight.  I  re- 
member when  the  old  Elm  on  Boston  Common 
was  blown  down,  my  husband,  who  was  also  a  col- 
lector, managed  to  get  a  bit  of  the  old  tree,  and 
when  he  reached  the  theater,  asked  me  to  take  it 
to  Mary's  dressing  room  and  show  it  to  her. 
She  was  delighted,  and  thanking  me  profusely, 

96 


SALAD   DAYS 

locked  it  up  in  her  dressing-case,  and  skipped 
on  to  the  stage  before  I  had  a  chance  to  explain. 
I  was  in  a  dilemma !  I  knew  my  husband 
would  think  me  stupid,  but  I  just  couldn't  ask 
her  for  it.  I  managed,  however,  to  get  another 
bit  of  the  tree  for  him,  and  "All's  well  that 
ends  well." 

Mary  lived  just  across  the  street  from  the 
Museum,  where  Houghton  and  Dutton's  store 
is  now.  After  the  matinee,  she  accustomed 
herself  to  a  little  nap.  One  night  when  the 
curtain  was  about  to  rise,  it  was  discovered 
that  Mary  was  not  in  the  theater,  so  a  mes- 
senger was  sent  in  great  haste  to  her  home. 
She  was  fast  asleep,  but  it  didn't  take  her  long 
to  get  to  the  theater,  and  I  rushed  her  into  her 
costume  so  she  was  ready  just  in  time.  I 
remember  her  little  pet  dog,  Gabby  (she  was 
called  Gabby  because  she  actually  chattered), 
very  much  resented  the  excitement,  and  during 
the  evening  poor  little  Mary  would  say,  "Oh, 
dear,  I  am  so  ashamed;    aren't  you,  Gabby?" 

97 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

Charles  Stevenson,  a  popular  member  of  the 
company,  was  quite  devoted  to  Mary  Cary  in 
those  days.  He  was  a  member  of  the  "Old 
Macaroni  Club",  which  was  composed  of  a 
select  coterie  of  literary  men  and  actors  who 
gathered  for  their  social  meetings  at  the  Parker 
House.  After  the  club  disbanded,  the  china, 
which  was  very  choice,  was  presented  to  Mary 
Cary,  as  it  was  marked  "M  C",  just  as  a  token 
of  their  regard  and  admiration  for  the  charming 
actress  and  their  popular  club  member. 

Miss  Laura  Phillips  impressed  me  pleasantly. 
She  was  very  jolly  and  good-natured,  and  a 
popular  member  of  the  Company. 

Miss  Amy  Ames,  the  daughter  of  Joseph 
Ames,  the  celebrated  portrait  painter,  played 
soubrette  parts,  and  I  remember  that  she  was 
quite  remarkable  in  Irish  characters.  She  had 
had  an  Irish  nurse,  with  whom  much  of  her 
childhood  was  associated,  and  had  acquired  a 
natural  brogue.  She  was  delightfully  pert  in 
comedy    characters.     Miss  Ames  was  very   ac- 

98 


SALAD   DAYS 

complished.  She  possessed  a  splendid  singing 
voice,  and  was  a  thorough  musician  and 
linguist. 

A  rumor  arose  that  Miss  Ames  had  passed 
on  to  the  land  where  there  are  no  rehearsals, 
and  every  one  is  letter-perfect.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  she  was  living  abroad,  in  the  full  enjoyment 
of  health  and  happiness,  and  had  the  pleasure 
of  reading  her  own  obituary,  also  of  sending 
it  back  to  the  newspaper  that  printed  it,  with 
a  corrected  copy  to  be  rewritten  for  the  next 
announcement. 

My  mind  drifts  to  dear  Margaret  Parker. 
When  I  joined  the  Company,  she  had  been  a 
member  for  years,  and  had  seen  many  changes. 
She  said  when  she  began  her  career,  contracts 
were  rarely  used,  —  usually  there  was  merely 
a  letter,  stating  the  amount  of  salary  agreed 
upon  ("if  worth  it").  The  lines  of  business 
were  more  closely  followed  in  those  days.  The 
young  woman  engaged  for  "respectable"  utility 
parts  must  possess  an  evening  gown,  and  the 

99 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

young  man  a  dress  suit,  this  being  a  full 
equipment  for  a  respectable  utility  position. 
Miss  Parker  was  an  actress  who  always 
carried  a  handkerchief  when  on  the  stage, 
because  she  was  always  ill-at-ease  unless  she 
had  something  in  her  hand.  She  told  me 
it  was  a  habit  formed  as  a  beginner,  and  she 
warned  me  against  the  temptation.  She  was 
a  whole-souled,  good-natured  woman,  ever 
ready  to  give  advice  and  share  her  costumes 
with  a  beginner.  Unfortunately,  she  was  not 
my  size.  That  fact  was  impressed  upon  my 
mind  because  of  the  following  incident : 

We  were  playing  "Clancarty. "  Miss  Parker 
played  an  old  Scotch  woman,  and  one  night  she 
was  not  able  to  appear  because  of  sudden  ill- 
ness. I  was  engaged  in  a  "thinking  part ",  and 
was  selected  to  fill  the  gap.  The  costume  she 
wore  was  impossible  for  me,  for  I  was  quite 
small  in  those  days,  and  she  was  very  tall. 
Fortunately  I  happened  to  have  an  Irish  peasant 
costume,  which   I   donned,   and  appeared  upon 

ioo 


SALAD   DAYS 

the  stage.  I  was  of  course  very  nervous,  and 
played  the  part  with  a  pronounced  Irish  brogue. 
The  actors  in  the  scene  were  very  much 
amused,  but  I  was  almost  heartbroken. 

After  the  play  that  night,  I  went  to  the 
stage  manager  —  Mr.  Fred  Williams  —  and 
tearfully  explained  the  situation.  He  was  very 
kind  and  encouraging,  and  praised  me  for 
playing  the  part,  saying  that  he  didn't  see  any 
reason  why  the  character  might  not  be  an 
Irishwoman  as  well  as  a  Scotchwoman,  and 
asked  me  to  play  it  as  an  Irish  peasant  dur- 
ing the  run  of  the  piece.  I  discovered  that 
night  that  the  brogans  and  the  little  Irish  plaid 
shawl  insisted  upon  their  own  Irish  atmosphere. 

Mrs.  Fred  Williams  filled  the  position  of 
what  was  called  "Singing  Chambermaid",  and 
was  very  popular  with  the  audiences  of  that 
day.  The  Williams  family  all  were  very  attrac- 
tive. Mr.  Williams'  sister,  Aunt  Belle,  I  recall 
as  a  dear  soul,  whose  kindly  spirit  pervaded  the 
household.     There  were  two  children,  Fritz  and 

IOI 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

Sallie,  who  were  quite  wonderful  in  musical 
studies.  Fritz  was  carried  on  the  stage  when 
he  was  about  six  months  old  by  Mr.  Warren  in 
the  play  of  "Seeing  Warren",  it  is  said.  At 
first  he  resented  the  familiarity  of  the  players, 
and  yelled  lustily  during  the  scene,  but  when 
there  was  a  call  at  the  end  of  the  act,  and  Mr. 
Warren  carried  him  on  in  his  arms,  he  beamed 
at  the  audience  and,  waving  his  little  hands 
"  day-day",  was  repeatedly  recalled.  Mr. 
Warren,  on  returning  the  child  to  his  fond 
mamma,  said,  "You  have  borne  a  good  actor: 
he  knows  how  to  take  a  call."  The  Williamses 
always  entertained  on  Sunday  nights,  and  at 
their  home  might  be  found  truly  Bohemian 
spirits.  Some  of  Boston's  most  prominent 
people  in  the  artistic  world,  —  painters,  actors, 
writers,  —  and  personages  who  visited  Boston, 
eventually  found  their  way  to  the  Fred 
Williamses'  Sunday  nights. 

When  Mr.  Williams  left  Boston,  he  became 
stage  director  for  Mr.  Daniel  Frohman  at  the 

1 02 


SALAD   DAYS 

Lyceum  Theater,  and  during  Sothern's  produc- 
tion of  "Hamlet"  he  was  taken  ill.  After  an 
illness  of  less  than  three  days,  he  died  and,  as 
he  often  expressed  the  wish,  in  harness.  He 
was  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  and  a  man 
of  rare  artistic  sense. 

William  J.  LeMoyne  was  another  player  of 
marked  ability.  His  acting  in  the  old  comedies 
was  of  a  rare  kind,  and  his  Sir  Anthony 
Absolute  never  has  been  surpassed.  He  was 
indeed  an  actor  of  the  Old  School  which,  I  fear, 
has  passed  out.  He  was  so  good-natured  and 
fatherly  that  I  often  went  to  him  for  advice 
and  to  ask  what  the  next  week's  play  was  to 
be,  and  if  he  thought  there  was  a  part  in  it  for 
me.     I  remember  on  one  occasion  he  said : 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will  be  in  the  next  week's  play; 
there's  a  nice  little  part  for  you,  I  think.  You 
will  play  a  little  Irish  pixie,  and  you  carry  a 
little  pick-ax.  Now,  be  sure  and  ask  the 
'  property  man '  to  make  you  a  nice  one." 

So  I  rushed  off  at  once  and  requested  him  to 

103 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

make  me  a  nice  little  pick-ax.  Failing  to 
understand,  the  "property  man"  sent  me  to  the 
stage  manager, — and  all  the  time  Mr.  LeMoyne 
was  chuckling  with  glee  in  some  dark  corner. 
He  enjoyed  playing  on  me  the  usual  tricks 
practised  on  the  beginner.  The  favorite  one 
is  to  send  the  novice  for  the  key  of  the  curtain. 
Another  is  to  ask  some  aged  member  of  the 
company    for    a    box    of    wrinkles. 

Dear  Mr.  LeMoyne !  We  missed  him ;  he 
was  always  so  sunny.  Mr.  LeMoyne  and  my 
husband  were  very  congenial,  both  being  lovers 
of  old  books.  We  spent  many  pleasant  Sundays 
at  his  cozy  home  in  Cambridge,  where  he 
lived  in  those  days.  I  am  the  proud  possessor 
of  some  rare  old  volumes  presented  to  Mr. 
Nolan,  autographed  by  him ;  also  a  very  old 
photograph  on  which  is  written  "A  thing  of 
beauty  is  a  joy  forever",  signed  "W.  J.  Le 
Moyne." 

Reviving  old  memories  brings  to  my  mind 
dear  Dan  Maguinnis.     Dan  was  a  close  friend 

104 


o 


7. 

\ 


C 

E 


V 


C 


SALAD   DAYS 

of  my  husband,  and  he  stood  up  with  us  when 
we  were  married  in  the  little  church  of  St. 
Joseph's  at  the  West  End.  I  remember  how 
fine  I  felt  in  my  new  "Ashes  of  Roses"  frock 
and  a  pale  blue  velvet  bonnet,  as  I  stood  and 
waited  at  the  window  two  long  hours  for  my 
husband-to-be.  Mr.  Nolan,  always  punctual, 
was,  of  course,  on  time,  but  I  had  anticipated 
the  hour.  At  last,  he  and  Dan  arrived,  Dan  in 
dress  suit  and  silk  hat,  though  it  was  mid- 
afternoon.  That  dress  suit  made  a  great  im- 
pression upon  me,  and,  though  I  assure  you  I 
didn't  wish  to  exchange  the  men,  I  did  wish 
the  dress  suit  was  on  the  bridegroom  instead 
of  on  the  best  man.  Dan  was  due  to  sing 
at  a  christening  later,  which  explains  his 
costume. 

When  we  were  first  married,  we  lived  out  on 
the  "Old  Mill  Dam."  There  were  no  cars, 
and  we  used  to  walk  home  after  the  play.  To 
cover  the  long  stretch  of  dreary  road,  we  would 
often  play  horse,  as  children  do,  for  amusement 

105 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

and  to  keep  warm,  using  Mr.  Nolan's  long 
woolen  muffler  for  reins.  We  didn't  mind  the 
journey  after  our  long  evening's  toil  for  the 
reason  that  we  were  so  healthy  in  mind  and 
body.  I  was  sixteen  years  old  then,  with 
dreams  to  come  true,  and  at  that  age  one  is 
sure  that  dreams  will  come  true. 

My  husband  was  an  optimist,  a  lover  of 
children  and  nature.  Almost  any  afternoon  he 
might  be  seen  strolling  along  over  the  "Mill 
Dam",  accompanied  by  our  setter  dog,  Dash, 
and  some  of  the  children  of  the  neighborhood. 
The  children  were  very  fond  of  him,  and  would 
often  ring  the  door-bell  and  ask  if  the  dog  and 
the  dog's  father  could  come  out. 

When  the  old  "Macaroni  Club"  was  in  exist- 
ence he  was  one  of  the  leading  members.  The 
club  gathered  for  their  social  meetings  on 
Sunday  nights  at  the  old  Parker  House.  Joe 
Rammetti,  a  musician  in  the  orchestra  and 
connected  with  the  Museum  for  years,  was 
selected  as  "  chef."    I  looked  forward  with  delight 

1 06 


SALAD   DAYS 

to  the  Sunday  club  nights.  My  husband  was 
an  interesting  story-teller,  and  would  relate 
the  happenings  in  his  inimitable  way;  telling 
how  Joe  would  instruct  the  guests  in  manipu- 
lating the  macaroni  from  the  plate  to  the 
mouth,  his  volatile  movements  and  broken 
English  causing  much  merriment.  Joe  never 
failed  to  put  an  orange  and  a  nice  red  apple  in 
my  husband's  coat  pocket  for  me. 

After  the  Macaroni  Club  had  disbanded,  a  few 
of  the  choice  spirits  used  to  meet  every  Thurs- 
day night  after  the  play  at  a  little  Bohemian  res- 
taurant. There  were  Sir  Randal  Roberts,  Joe 
Bradford,  John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  Doctor  Harris, 
Joe  Shannon,  and  Mr.  Nolan.  I  was  the  only 
feminine  member  of  the  party,  and  was  allowed 
to  accompany  my  husband.  I  rarely  joined  in 
the  conversation ;  I  was  very  young  and  they 
were  very  brilliant.  After  supper  I  would  drop 
off  to  sleep  and  remain  oblivious  to  brilliant 
wit  and  tobacco  smoke  till  my  husband  waked 
me  up,  and  we  departed  for  home  in  the  "wee 

107 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

sma'  hours."  How  I  should  appreciate  now  an 
evening  of  such  rare  companionship  and  friend- 
ship ! 

Bostonians  took  great  delight  in  Mr.  Nolan's 
acting ;  he  always  received  hearty  receptions 
and  special  praise  for  his  work.  He  was,  as 
one  of  our  best  critics  has  said,  a  natural  actor, 
and  it  will  be  long  before  the  older  generation 
of  playgoers  will  forget  him.  Mr.  John  Bouve 
Clapp,  in  one  of  his  articles  on  the  Boston 
Museum,  writes  :  "A  member  who  is  recalled 
with  great  pleasure  by  Boston  playgoers  is 
James  Nolan,  who  through  his  long  career  as  a 
member  of  the  stock  company,  acquired  a 
sterling  reputation  as  an  actor  of  comedy 
characters.  He  was  born  in  Boston.  His  edu- 
cation was  obtained  at  the  Dwight  Grammar 
School.  When  he  was  fourteen  he  went  to 
work  in  an  architect's  office.  He  applied  for  a 
position  at  the  Boston  Museum  in  1858,  ap- 
pearing for  the  first  time  as  one  of  the  servants 
in  '  The  School  for  Scandal.'  " 

108 


SALAD   DAYS 

Mr.  Nolan's  career  was  interrupted  by  the 
Civil  War.  When  little  more  than  a  boy  he  en- 
listed as  a  volunteer,  was  dangerously  wounded, 
and  taken  prisoner  at  Port  Hudson.  After  his 
return  from  the  war,  he  joined  the  Howard 
Athenaeum  Company,  opening  in  the  part  of 
Jacob  Twigg  in  "Black-Eyed  Susan."  For  a 
while  he  was  in  the  support  of  Edwin  Forrest, 
and  was  also  a  member  of  the  Laura  Keane 
Company  at  one  time. 

He  was  for  a  season  at  the  old  National 
Theater,  under  Mr.  Whitman's  management. 
He  made  a  pronounced  hit  that  season  in 
the  part  of  Bettoni  in  "Cinderella",  receiving 
many  "scene"  calls.  The  play  was  produced 
with  a  famous  caste  —  including  Fanny  Daven- 
port, Kitty  Blanchard,  James  Lewis,  and  Dan 
Maguinnis.  He  retired  from  the  National 
Theater  at  the  end  of  that  season  and  again 
rejoined  the  Boston  Museum  Company,  where 
he  remained  until  his  retirement. 

His  success  proved  that  he  made  no  mistake 

109 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

when  he  gave  up  architecture  for  acting.  He 
was  indeed  a  natural  actor  and  a  conscientious 
one.  The  mellowness  of  his  acting  in  such 
parts  as  Launcelot  Gobbo  in  "Merchant  of 
Venice",  the  apothecary  in  "Romeo  and 
Juliet",  and  the  grave-digger  in  "Hamlet" 
will  long  be  remembered.  There  were  certain 
Dickens'  characters  that  he  played  with  a 
wonderful  fidelity  to  life ;  his  Artful  Dodger 
in  "Oliver  Twist"  has  never  been  excelled. 
Trip  in  "The  School  for  Scandal"  was  another 
stage  portrait.  He  could  elaborate  a  bit  into 
an  important  character.  The  importance  of  a 
character  is  not  always  valued  by  the  length 
and  the  number  of  lines.  He  played  all  parts 
well  and  brought  to  prominence  many  a  small 
part  that  in  the  hands  of  a  commonplace  actor 
would  have  been  slighted  and  considered  of 
little  value.  He  was  a  thorough  student  and  a 
conservative  actor,  spending  much  of  his  time 
in  libraries  and  literary  gatherings.  He  died 
on  October  20,  1894. 

no 


SALAD   DAYS 

In  this  year  of  Our  Lord,  191 5,  when  the 
trenches  in  Belgium  and  France  are  filled  with 
hundreds  of  brave  English  and  French  actors, 
opposed  by  as  many  equally  determined  Ger- 
man actors,  my  mind  reverts  to  the  time  when 
my  husband,  who  was  a  soldier  in  the  Forty- 
eighth  Massachusetts  Regiment  and  fought 
at  Port  Hudson  under  General  N.  P.  Banks 
(who  was  also  at  one  time  in  the  ranks  of  the 
player  folk),  used  to  tell  me  of  his  old  comrades 
and  fellow  actors,  several  of  whom  were  at  the 
Museum  at  that  time,  among  them  James 
Burrows,  who  had  fought  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  all  through  the  great  Civil  War; 
William  J.  LeMoyne,  Nate  Salsbury,  a  good 
soldier  in  the  Fifty-ninth  Illinois,  and  Law- 
rence Barrett,  who  was  a  major  in  the  same 
company  as  LeMoyne.  Harry  Crisp,  a  hand- 
some young  actor,  was  with  us  in  those  days. 
He  had  been  one  of  Stonewall  Jackson's  men, 
and  had  faced  in  battle  the  very  Yankee  regi- 
ment  of   which    Burrows    was    a    member.     It 

in 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

was  a  great  treat  to  hear  those  actors  tell  war 
stories  in  the  greenroom.  How  we  enjoyed 
their  good-natured  tilts  !  They  were  at  all 
times  the  best  of  friends  and  bore  not  the  least 
trace  of  resentment.  Burrows  would  say  to 
my  husband : 

"Barney,  I  wonder  what  ever  became  of  that 
barefooted  Reb  we  captured  at  the  Battle  of 
Malvern  Hill  ?  By  the  way,  he  belonged  to 
your  regiment,  Harry." 

Crisp  would  flush  a  bit  and  say:  "Oh! 
yes,  Tenth  Virginny !  A  bully  little  regiment ! 
I  hated  to  leave  it !  Well,  they  were  simple 
farmer  lads,  but,  oh!    couldn't  they  fight!" 

My  recollection  of  the  War  was  very  vague, 
but  my  husband  insisted  on  my  telling  this 
little  story  about  myself  whenever  reminis- 
cences of  the  war  were  given.  I  remember 
I  was  playing  in  the  schoolyard  (Bennett 
School,  North  End),  when  the  schoolmaster 
rushed  into  the  yard  and  shouted  excitedly : 
"Three  cheers,  children  !     Richmond  is  taken  !" 

112 


SALAD   DAYS 

The  children,  the  teachers,  and  the  master 
cheered  lustily,  and  I  cheered  too ;  but  I  knew 
little  of  the  meaning  of  war.  I  was  only 
familiar  with  Richmond  Street,  near  where  I 
lived.  When  I  reached  home,  I  told  my 
mother:  "Richmond  Street  is  taken,  and  the 
children  were  so  glad,  and  we  all  cheered  three 
cheers." 

Of  those  six  gallant  soldier  boys  then  at  the 
Museum,  there  is  but  one  left  to  answer  the 
roll-call — James  Burrows — who  has  re- 
freshed my  memory  and  contributes  the  follow- 
ing account  of  our  Confederate  and  Union 
soldier  actors  who  appeared  at  the  Museum 
from  time  to  time. 

'There  was  a  wholesome,  mutual  respect 
for  the  fighting  qualities  of  either  side,  so  that 
when  the  Museum  actors  met  at  Philippi  or 
on  Bosworth  Field,  they  fought  as  Romans  or 
English,  as  the  case  might  be,  without  any 
trace  of  bitterness  as  former  actual  foes  on  real 
fields  of  battle.     There  is  a  formidable   list  of 

113 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

names  of  men  who  fought  on  either  side  in  the 
Civil  War  and  afterwards  met  as  fellow  players 
on  the  Museum  stage.  William  Harris  was  a 
captain  in  the  Thirty-fourth  Ohio,  a  regiment 
once  commanded  by  no  less  a  person  than 
Rutherford  B.  Hayes,  afterwards  President  of 
the  United  States.  William  J.  LeMoyne  was 
a  gallant  captain  in  the  Twenty-eighth 
Massachusetts,  and  greatly  distinguished  him- 
self at  the  Battle  of  South  Mountain.  Law- 
rence Barrett  was  a  major  in  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Massachusetts ;  and  W.  E.  Sheridan, 
a  captain  in  the  Sixth  Ohio,  became  Chief 
Signal  Officer  on  General  George  H.  Thomas's 
staff.  Major  D.  H.  Harkins,  who  played  with 
us  as  a  member  of  Richard  Mansfield's  Com- 
pany, had  a  distinguished  career  in  the  Fifth 
New  York  Cavalry.  Harry  Meredith  was  a 
bluejacket  in  the  navy,  as  was  also  Joe 
Sullivan,  who  was  Master  of  Properties  for 
many  years  at  the  Museum  and  afterwards  at 
the  Boston  Theater.     When  Charles  Wyndham 

114 


SALAD   DAYS 

played  his  last  engagement  at  the  Boston 
Theater,  Joe  was  told  to  set  the  stage  for  a 
rehearsal  of  *  My  Uncle's  Will.'  He  had  done 
that  for  years  at  the  Museum,  and  so  could 
hardly  wait  for  details  from  Wyndham's  lips. 
He  showed  signs  of  familiarity  with  the  situa- 
tion which  prompted  Wyndham  to  ask  if  he 
had  ever  set  the  piece  before. 

"'Oh!  About  a  hundred  times,  I  think,' 
said  Joe. 

'"Where  ?'  asked  Wyndham. 

"'At  the  Boston  Museum,  for  Mr.  Barron 
and  Miss  Clarke,'  was  Joe's  reply.  Wyndham 
concluded  not  to  play  a  piece  which  had  been 
seen  so  many  times  at  another  theater  in  Boston. 

"J-  J-  Wallace,  the  most  diminutive  'Heavy 
Man'  I  had  ever  seen,  was  a  Confederate  sol- 
dier in  the  Artillery.  He  was  gifted  with  the 
biggest  voice  I  ever  heard  from  a  small  man. 
He  was  wont  to  build  up  his  stature  by  means 
of  special  boots  and  shoes  with  very  high  heels, 
and  in  some  measure  made  his  figure  conform 

115 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

to  his  voice.  No  doubt  there  are  some  theater- 
goers who  are  able  to  recall  his  performance  of 
1  Meg  Merrilies'  which  he  played  once  for  his 
benefit.  It  was  said  to  rival  that  of  Charlotte 
Cushman.  It  was  surely  a  striking  impersona- 
tion and  not  easily  forgotten. 

"Joseph  Polk,  who  came  to  the  Museum  with 
his  comedy  of  'Mixed  Pickles',  was  also  a  gal- 
lant Confederate  soldier.  I  think  that  com- 
pletes the  list  of  actual  soldiers  who  played 
with  us  from  time  to  time. 

"I  am  glad  to  have  known  many  of  those 
Museum  soldier  actors  and  doubly  glad  to 
testify  to  their  worth.  They  were  not  the 
frivolous,  light-headed,  or  as  one  may  say, 
selfish  beings  that  some  people  think  them  to 
have  been,  but  men  of  courage,  who  had  the 
stamina  to  fight  for  their  convictions." 


116 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Three  Comedians 

GEORGE  W.  WILSON  made  his  appear- 
ance at  the  Museum  in  1877,  appear- 
ing as  Roderigo  in  "Othello",  and  from  that 
time  until  the  close  of  the  Stock  Company  in 
1894,  played  a  variety  of  parts,  grave  and  gay, 
that  won  for  him  the  reputation  of  being  one 
of  the  best  character  comedians  in  this  country. 
He  was  a  Boston  boy,  educated  at  the  Quincy 
School  on  Tyler  Street,  and  his  first  position 
after  leaving  school  was  in  the  Suffolk  Bank. 
He  said  that  his  spare  time  was  occupied  in 
reading  playbooks.  He  managed  to  get  into 
amateur  theatricals,  and  was  at  one  time  a 
member  of  the  Mercantile  Amateur  Associa- 
tion on  Summer  Street.  From  there  he  drifted 
to  the  Boston  Theater,  where  he  remained  for 

four  or  five  years. 

117 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

Mr.  Wilson's  first  success  at  the  Museum  was 
in  the  part  of  Uriah  Heep  in  "David  Copper- 
field."  Mr.  LeMoyne  had  played  the  part 
many  times  in  previous  seasons,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  be  unrivaled  in  the  character,  and 
indeed  his  portrayal  was  truly  wonderful.  Mr. 
Wilson  gave  an  entirely  different  conception, 
however,  and  was  equally  successful  in  the  role. 

He  was  a  student  in  his  chosen  profession, 
and  made  a  very  careful  study  of  every 
character  he  portrayed.  His  make-ups  were 
individual,  and  marvels  of  artistry.  The 
characters  most  strongly  impressed  on  my 
mind  were  Goldfinch,  Bob  Acres,  and  Tony 
Lumpkin.  His  playing  of  Bunthorne  in 
"Patience"  won  for  him  another  success  on 
its  first  hearing,  as  did  also  his  artistic  per- 
formance of  Sir  Joseph  Porter  in  "Pinafore." 
I  think  his  portrayal  of  Crabtree  in  "The  School 
for  Scandal"  the  best  I  have  ever  seen. 

He  told  me  that  when  he  first  joined  the 
Museum  Company,  the  old  comedies  were  new 

118 


THREE  COMEDIANS 

to  him,  and  it  was  not  unusual  to  have  half  a 
dozen  parts  to  study  within  a  week,  including 
comedy,  tragedy,  and  farce.  One  can  easily 
understand  there  was  little  time  for  outside 
recreation.  He  said  he  lived  directly  opposite 
the  Museum,  over  Papanti's  Dancing  Academy, 
and  night  in  and  night  out  the  midnight  oil 
continued  burning  until  daybreak.  Actors  be- 
lieve that  to  be  able  to  retain  Shakespearean 
lines  they  should  be  slept  on.  George  Wilson 
disproved  that  rule,  for  during  the  first  of  his 
engagement  at  the  Museum  he  had  little  chance 
for  sleep. 

Mr.  Wilson's  most  famous  and  perhaps 
greatest  success  was  as  Old  Macclesfield  in 
"The  Guv'nor."  Memories  of  the  old  boat- 
man and  the  expression  he  used  through  the 
play,  "Yer  'and,  Guv'nor,  Yer  'and,"  will  long 
live  in  the  minds  of  its  hearers. 

Mrs.  Vincent,  too,  as  the  dear  old  wife  of 
the  boatman,  was  true  to  life.  I  remember 
how  much  I  enjoyed  playing  the  character  even 

119 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

at  a  disadvantage.  Mrs.  Vincent  was  taken  ill 
at  the  theater  and  I  was  given  her  part.  I  had 
enjoyed  the  play  and  had  watched  it  from  the 
wings  so  often  that  I  was  nearly  letter  perfect, 
but  going  on  without  a  rehearsal  and  plunging 
suddenly  into  the  midst  of  the  play,  caused  me 
to  be  seized  with  a  very  curious  sort  of  nervous- 
ness, in  the  form  of  a  twitching  foot  that  in- 
sisted upon  dancing  about  whenever  I  was 
seated.  Do  what  I  would,  I  couldn't  stop  it, 
but  with  Mr.  Wilson's  kindly  assistance,  I  got 
through  the  evening  very  well.  Mrs.  Vincent 
recovered  and  was  ready  to  play  the  next 
night,  but  on  the  way  to  her  dressing  room,  she 
turned  her  ankle.  Doctor  Hofendahl,  who  was 
our  physician  in  time  of  need,  happened  to  be 
in  the  greenroom  that  evening  and,  after  at- 
tending her,  forbade  her  playing.  The  dear 
old  soul  wanted  to  play  with  a  bandaged  foot, 
but  Doctor  Hofendahl  insisted  upon  taking  her 
home  in  his  carriage.  After  that  I  played  the 
part  for  some  time. 

1 20 


THREE   COMEDIANS 

The  parents  of  George  Wilson  had  intended 
him  for  the  ministry,  and  their  son's  choice 
was  regarded  with  much  disfavor.  When 
young  George  had  really  decided  upon  his 
career,  his  father  took  him  aside  and  gravely 
said:  "My  son,  now  that  you  have  chosen  the 
path  through  the  mire,  remember  there  must 
be  a  barrier  between  us,"  and  that  barrier 
existed  till  the  end  of  time.  His  parents  never 
saw  him  in  a  play.  After  his  father  died,  he 
tried  to  coax  his  mother  to  see  him  in  a  favorite 
part,  but  it  was  of  no  avail.  She  said:  "No, 
my  son ;  I  never  went  to  the  theater  when  your 
father  was  alive,  and  I  don't  think  he  would 
care  to  have  me  go  now." 

Mr.  Wilson  has  always  stayed  in  harness, 
keeping  abreast  of  the  times,  and  is  at  present 
doing  splendid  work  in  Mr.  Sothern's  Company. 
He  had  many  offers  to  accept  stellar  honors 
during  his  stay  at  the  Museum,  but  he  was  con- 
tent to  remain  in  Boston  among  the  people  who 
so  greatly  appreciated  his  artistic  efforts. 

121 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

J.  A.  Smith  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1813. 
"Smithy"  — as  he  was  called  by  his  associates 
—  was  an  unusual  actor  of  foppish  characters, 
and  assuredly  the  best  dresser  of  stage  fops  I 
have  ever  seen,  always  correct  and  never 
exaggerated. 

An  amusing  story  is  told  of  Mr.  Smith's  first 
engagement  in  Boston,  where  he  was  engaged 
to  play  at  the  National  Theater.  He  sent  his 
wardrobe  on  by  freight,  and  he  came  on  by 
train.  When  he  arrived  in  Boston,  he  was 
very  homesick,  —  the  streets  seemed  so  narrow 
and  crooked,  —  and  he  was  very  lonely,  so 
back  he  started  for  his  home  in  Philadelphia, 
forgetting  all  about  his  wardrobe  and  without 
even  calling  on  the  manager.  When  he  arrived 
home,  his  mother  welcomed  him  with  open 
arms.  She  was  very  much  opposed  to  the 
theater,  and  "Smithy",  who  was  a  tailor  as 
well  as  an  actor,  declared  then  and  there  that 
he  would  give  up  the  stage.  But  alas,  the 
best  laid  plans  of  mice  and  men,  etc.  !     The  wily 

122 


THREE  COMEDIANS 

stage  manager  in  Boston  refused  to  send  back 
his  wardrobe,  so  "Smithy"  was  obliged  to 
return  and  fill  his  engagement.  Sir  Benjamin 
Backbite  in  "The  School  for  Scandal"  and 
Jerome  Splendidsilk  in  "The  Silver  Spoon"  won 
for  him  great  praise. 

Mr.  Smith  was  a  devout  Roman  Catholic. 
During  Lent,  he  never  failed  to  attend  Mass 
every  morning ;  even  when  we  were  playing 
on  the  road,  in  the  smallest  towns,  his  first 
duty  was  to  locate  a  church.  I  remember  one 
dark  morning  Miriam  O'Leary  and  myself  ac- 
companied him.  It  was  in  Plymouth  town, 
and  a  very  early  Mass  was  held  in  the  basement 
of  the  church.  The  stairs  were  steep  and 
dark,  and  we  had  to  grope  our  way.  "Smithy'1 
and  Miriam  landed  in  safety,  while  I  slid  down 
several  steps,  causing  quite  a  commotion. 
They  passed  on,  paying  no  attention  whatever  to 
me,  leaving  me  to  recover  myself  as  best  I  could. 

Mrs.  Vincent  and  he  were  very  dear  friends 
and  were  continually  playing  practical  jokes  on 

123 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

one  another.  He  used  to  call  her  Mary  Ann. 
Mr.  Smith  was  a  member  of  the  Company  for 
more  than  thirty  years.  He  retired,  and  spent 
the  last  of  his  days  at  the  Forrest  Home  for 
Actors.  He  made  occasional  visits  to  his  friends 
in  Boston,  however.  The  city  and  its  people 
whom  he  had  grown  to  love  owed  him  much 
for  his  share  of  entertainment,  and  he  was  very 
much  endeared  to  all  Bostonians. 

"Uncle  Jim  Ring"  came  to  the  Museum  in 
1853,  according  to  the  "Chronological  Record", 
but  he  was  a  favorite  comedian  at  the  old 
National  Theater  on  Portland  Street  many 
years  before  that  date.  I  note  his  name  and 
that  of  Mrs.  Ring  in  a  program  of  the  National, 
bearing  the  date  of  November  11,  1846.  This 
program  also  marked  the  first  appearance  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent  on  any  stage  in  this  coun- 
try. The  bill  for  the  evening  was  "The  Wizard 
of  the  Wave"  and  "Popping  the  Question", 
Mrs.  Vincent  appearing  only  in  the  farce. 

124 


C/3 


5 


£ 


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o 

t/1 


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"J 
bo 

o 
u 

a 


THREE   COMEDIANS 

When  I  came  to  the  Museum  in  1872,  "Uncle 
Jim"  had  been  there  so  long  that  he  seemed  to 
me  to  be  about  a  thousand  years  old.  Not  in 
appearance,  for  he  was  simply  a  cherub  grown 
up  and  supplied  with  modern  clothes.  I  do 
not  think  any  one  ever  called  him  by  any  other 
name  than  "Uncle  Jim."  He  stood  in  that 
relation  to  all  of  the  company,  old  or  young, 
and  by  his  unfailing  good  nature  and  sunny 
disposition  lived  up  to  the  title.  He  was  very 
fond  of  "going  a-fishing",  and  spent  many  of 
his  leisure  hours  in  that  innocent  pastime.  It 
did  not  seem  to  matter  much  to  him  how  few 
fish  he  might  catch,  so  that  he  had  a  fine  day  in 
the  boat  or  by  the  brookside.  To  be  "bathed 
in  green",  as  he  expressed  it,  was  his  delight. 
No  doubt  this  habit  prolonged  his  life  and  kept 
him  young  at  an  advanced  age. 

He  visited  England  and  France  when  still  a 
young  man  as  a  member  of  one  of  the  first 
black-faced  minstrel  companies  ever  seen  in 
those  countries.     He  used  to  tell  that  one  day, 

125 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

when  he  had  gone  just  outside  of  London  for 
a  little  fishing,  he  heard  a  voice  calling  to  him 
from  a  bridge  over  his  head,  "Hullo!  The 
last  time  I  saw  you,  you  were  fishing  on  the 
Mill  Dam  in  Boston."  "Uncle  Jim"  dropped 
his  rod  and  ran  up  the  bank,  only  to  find  that 
his  unknown  friend,  with  true  Boston  reticence, 
had  walked  on  without  leaving  his  card. 

"Uncle  Jim"  was  fond  of  telling  how  he  once 
called  by  request  to  see  the  mother  of  an  actor 
friend,  who  occupied  some  kind  of  a  position 
(housekeeper,  I  think)  in  a  pretentious  London 
house.  He  walked  up  the  steps,  in  his  free 
American  manner,  and  rang  the  bell.  A  pom- 
pous footman  came  to  the  door,  who,  when  he 
learned  that  the  caller  wished  to  see  the  house- 
keeper, gave  him  a  look  that  was  intended  to 
wither  the  caller,  and  said,  as  he  pointed  to  the 
area,  "The  hother  door!"  I  can  see  "Uncle 
Jim"  now  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
laughed,  as  he  recalled  the  pompous  flunky. 

My   husband    was    his    dressing    room    mate, 

126 


THREE   COMEDIANS 

and  was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  had  finished 
dressing  for  his  part  and  made  a  place  for  Mr. 
Warren  to  come  in  and  have  his  little  chat  and 
smoke  before  the  curtain  went  up.  Then 
"Uncle  Jim"  was  at  his  best.  He  had  just  the 
tact  needed  to  start  Mr.  Warren  on  one  of  his 
story-telling  flights.  If  one  could  have  taken 
those  stories  down,  they  would  have  been  of 
rare  interest  to  the  people  of  this  generation. 
There  was  never  any  bitterness  or  sting  in 
those  delightful  talks  about  the  men  and  events 
of  that  day.  Unluckily  my  husband  was  not 
a  Boswell,  nor  was  there  any  one  of  that  school 
in  the  old  Museum,  so  the  old  tales  —  the 
flashes  of  wit  and  wisdom  —  passed  out  at  the 
doors  and  windows,  and  were  lost  to  the  world. 
I  recall  just  one  of  Mr.  Warren's  sayings 
which  may  serve  as  a  sample  of  his  way  of 
putting  things.  He  had  been  out  of  the  bill, 
and  so  had  an  opportunity  to  witness  the  per- 
formance of  his  cousin,  Joseph  Jefferson,  in 
"The  Rivals."     We  had  played   the   piece   al- 

127 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

most  as  Sheridan  wrote  it,  but  Mr.  Jefferson 
had  made  many  changes  and  transpositions  to 
suit  his  ideas  of  a  good  vehicle  for  a  star. 
"Uncle  Jim"  asked  Mr.  Warren  how  he  liked 
"Joe."  Mr.  Warren  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  with  a  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes, 
replied,  "Well,  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  'The 
Rivals'  with  'Sheridan  twenty  miles  away.'" 

"Uncle  Jim"  was  the  terror  of  the  surly  box- 
office  man  or  the  equally  sour  ticket-seller  at 
a  railroad  ticket  office.  He  hardly  ever  looked 
for  gentle  manners  or  even  common  courtesy 
at  either  place,  so  he  had  a  little  scene  carefully 
rehearsed  and  always  ready.  He  would  start 
back  and  throw  up  his  hands  at  the  first  gruff 
word  and  say,  "Don't  shoot!    don't  shoot!" 

The  man  In  the  office  would  sulkily  reply, 
"Who  is  going  to  shoot?  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

And  then  "Uncle  Jim"  would  say,  "Well,  I 
thought  by  your  manner  you  might  reach  for 
a  gun." 

128 


THREE  COMEDIANS 

Few  actors  had  more  or  better  friends  than 
James  H.  Ring.  He  was  such  a  favorite  with 
the  Boston  public  that  his  yearly  benefit  was  a 
sure  attraction.  He  was  particularly  good  in 
such  parts  as  Sam  Gerridge  in  "Caste",  or  in 
almost  any  of  the  simple  rustic  characters  of 
the  English  comedies.  Of  course  he  was  suc- 
cessful in  his  black-face  roles,  for  that  was  one 
of  the  strong  features  of  his  early  life. 

I  recall  one  occasion  in  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin",  where  the  slavedriver,  Haley,  was 
storming  at  him.  The  actor  playing  Haley 
had  been  furnished  with  a  huge  property  dirk- 
knife.  The  knife  had  a  tendency  to  tumble 
out  of  his  pocket  when  he  climbed  over  the  set 
pieces  in  pursuit  of  George  Harris,  so  he  had 
sewed  it  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat,  not  noticing 
that  the  ring  he  had  fastened  to  his  pocket  was 
attached  to  the  handle  of  the  dirk  and  not  to 
the  scabbard.  When  he  tried  to  draw  the  knife 
and  make  good  his  threat  to  cut  the  heart  out 
of  the  poor  black,  the  knife  would  not  come  out 

129 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

to  "suit  the  action  to  the  word."  "Uncle 
Jim",  to  save  the  scene,  looked  at  the  angry 
Haley  still  tugging  away  at  his  knife,  and  said, 
"Don't  hurry  yo'se'f!  Don't  hurry  yo'se'f!" 
The  audience  "caught  on"  at  once  and  shouted 
with  laughter. 

It  was  said  that  Mrs.  Stowe  came  to  the 
Museum  just  once  to  see  this  version  of  her 
story,  and  left  in  high  dudgeon  when  she  had 
heard  a  few  lines  of  Mr.  Warren's  part.  He 
played  an  interpolated  character,  Penetrate 
Party-side,  a  broad  Yankee  part  in  Doctor 
J.  S.  Jones's  best  manner,  but  the  matter  was 
too  much  for  Mrs.  Stowe.  Here  are  the  lines 
that  drove  her  out.  Penetrate  is  prescribing  a 
remedy  for  headache  which  was  as  follows : 

"Hoss-huff  parin's  —  they  must  be  burnt  into 
a  pan  till  they  frizzle  and  then  sniffed  tew. 
They  must  be  sniffed  tew  strong  and  offen." 
Perhaps  this  caused  Mrs.  Stowe's  head  to  ache, 
as  she  never  came  back  to  hear  the  rest  of  the 
play. 

130 


THREE  COMEDIANS 

The  late  John  Boyle  O'Reilly  was  a  personal 
friend  and  great  admirer  of  our  genial  come- 
dian. Those  who  had  the  pleasure  of  sharing 
his  little  dressing  room  at  the  Museum  heard 
at  first  hand  many  incidents  of  the  escape  from 
Australia  and  the  things  that  lead  up  to 
O'Reilly's  arrest,  conviction,  and  transportation. 

"Uncle  Jim"  lived  up  on  the  hill  behind  the 
State  House,  and  was  pretty  sure  to  stop  at 
the  Revere  House  on  his  way  home  after  the 
play.  O'Reilly  was  something  of  a  Bohemian, 
and  delighted  to  make  one  of  the  little  party  of 
actors,  authors,  and  horsemen  usually  to  be 
found  at  the  Revere  House  on  Saturday  nights. 
" Uncle  Jim"  was  a  good  listener  and  heard 
things  worth  the  hearing.  I  have  been  told 
that  on  one  occasion,  at  least,  after  the  com- 
pany had  stayed  the  limit  of  time  at  the 
Revere,  "Uncle  Jim"  suggested  that  they 
adjourn  to  his  house  and  see  if  Jule  (Mrs. 
Ring)  did  not  cook  the  best  Boston  baked 
beans  they  had  ever  eaten.     Just  think  of  that 

131 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

party  of  six  stalwart  men  invading  Mrs.  Ring's 
kitchen  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Of 
course  the  lady  had  retired,  and  did  not  know 
that  her  oven  was  being  despoiled  of  its  Sunday 
breakfast.  The  beans  were  all  eaten  and  pro- 
nounced "the  best  ever",  and  "Uncle  Jim" 
was  called  the  "Prince  of  Hosts",  but  that  did 
not  still  the  conscience  of  at  least  one  of  the 
number.  Frank  Hardenberg  said  it  was  an 
outrage  to  eat  up  the  family  provisions  like  so 
many  wild  beasts,  and  he  demanded  a  silver 
offering  from  each  man  to  make  good  their 
work  of  destruction,  saying,  "Now,  boys, 
don't  hunt  up  the  smallest  coin  you  have,  but 
just  chip  in  the  largest."  That  was  what  they 
did,  and  the  result  enabled  Mrs.  Ring  to 
send  out  to  the  baker's  on  Sunday  morning 
for  all  the  beans  needed  to  furnish  the  break- 
fast for  her  family,  and  left  a  little  handful  of 
silver  for  other  things. 

"Uncle    Jim"    was    a    good    husband    and    a 
happy  father,   and   a   still   more  happy  grand- 

132 


THREE  COMEDIANS 

father,  if  one  may  judge  by  the  pride  and  de- 
light he  took  in  his  winning  and  talented 
granddaughters.  How  he  would  have  delighted 
in  the  success  of  Blanche  Ring,  if  he  could  have 
lived  to  witness  it.  She  has  fulfilled  the  prom- 
ise of  her  youth,  and  has  shown  to  the  people 
of  this  day  a  glimpse  of  the  merry,  light- 
hearted,  sunny  disposition  that  she  surely  in- 
herited from  her  grandfather,  our  old  comedian. 
"Uncle  Jim"  was  sometimes  a  little  puzzling 
to  visiting  stars.  He  would  watch  a  scene,  and 
when  the  star  made  an  exit  near  him,  he  would 
say:  "I'm  very  much  pleased  with  you." 
The  star  might  not  understand  that  this  was 
"Uncle  Jim's"  way  of  paying  a  compliment, 
but  before  the  engagement  ended,  he  was  sure 
to  be  put  right,  either  by  one  of  the  Company 
or  by  the  genial  comedian  himself.  "Uncle 
Jim"  was  said  to  have  tried  this  with  Augustin 
Daly,  but  with  what  success  may  be  inferred 
from  the  fact  that  he  remained  only  one  season 
at  that  theater. 

133 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

It  is  said  that  when  Anderson,  an  eminent 
English  actor,  came  to  the  National  Theater 
to  play  his  first  engagement,  "Uncle  Jim"  was 
the  prompter.  Mr.  Anderson  was  late  at 
rehearsal,  and  the  manager  dismissed  the  com- 
pany, leaving  "Uncle  Jim"  to  explain  to  the 
star.  Anderson  came  in,  full  of  bustle,  and 
seeing  the  empty  stage  asked,  "Where  is  the 
company?" 

"Gone  to  their  farms,"  said  "Uncle  Jim." 

"Gone  to  their  farms  ?  What  do  you  mean, 
sir?"  asked  the  surprised  Anderson. 

"Why,  our  people  all  own  farms,  and  can't 
wait  around  for  any  star,"  was  "Uncle  Jim's" 
reply.  Mr.  Anderson  was  not  late  the  next 
day. 

"Uncle  Jim"  did  not  ask  much  of  this  world 
—  just  a  few  warm  friends  and  a  great  many 
good  books,  for  he  was  an  omnivorous  reader. 
I  have  seen  the  large  collection  of  an  old  friend 
(a  former  member  of  the  Museum  Company), 
in  which  each  and  every  book  is  marked  with 

134 


THREE   COMEDIANS 

the  sign  "lxl",  which  was  the  mark  that 
"Uncle  Jim"  placed  on  all  the  books  he  had 
read  and  liked. 

Perhaps  "Uncle  Jim"  never  played  a  part 
that  fitted  him  better  than  that  of  Mr.  Wilfer 
in  "Gold  Dust",  a  version  of  "Our  Mutual 
Friend."  In  the  words  of  Charles  Dickens, 
"If  the  conventional  cherub  could  ever  grow 
up  and  be  clothed,  he  might  be  photographed 
as  a  portrait  of  Wilfer."  "Uncle  Jim's" 
characterization  of  Wilfer  was  simply  perfect. 
His  chubby,  smooth,  innocent  appearance  fitted 
the  part  and  made  it  seem  like  a  picture  out  of 
the  novel. 

Mr.  Ring  was  an  American  only  by  a  mere 
chance.  He  was  born  in  South  Boston  just 
three  days  after  his  parents  landed  from  a 
British  vessel,  in  the  year  1820.  He  died  at 
Manchester-by-the-Sea,  June  13,  1883. 


135 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Two  Reliables 

JAMES  R.  PITMAN  was  born  in  New  Zea- 
land of  English  parentage,  in  1842,  and 
came  to  this  country  at  an  early  age.  He 
became  a  member  of  the  Boston  Museum 
Company  in  1863,  playing  small  parts  and 
acting  as  captain  of  supernumeraries  for  some 
years.  Finally,  in  1869,  he  became  prompter, 
a  position  he  held  until  promoted  to  that  of 
stage  manager. 

He  was  a  most  efficient  prompter,  a  position 
of  more  importance  under  the  old  system  of 
constant  change  in  plays  than  can  well  be 
understood  now.  From  his  position  in  the 
corner  of  the  proscenium  on  the  right  of  the 
stage,  he  controlled  all  of  the  stage  mechanism. 
He  could  signal  by  bells  and   raps  to  the  man 

136 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

in  the  flies  who  raised  and  lowered  the  curtain, 
to  the  man  who  managed  the  borders,  in  fact, 
to  all  of  the  unseen  workers  who  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  various  effects  in  use  during  the 
progress  of  a  play.  Thunder,  lightning,  rain, 
hail,  snow,  sunshine,  and  shadow  were  at  his 
command.  He  was  an  adept  at  simulating 
the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  crying  of  babies. 
If  a  carriage  seemed  to  be  driving  up  at  the 
back  of  the  scene,  it  was  Pitman  pushing  a 
long  pole  over  the  rough  boards  of  the  stage, 
across  the  grain  of  the  wood.  He  made  the 
sound  of  horses  coming  or  going,  as  the  case 
might  be,  with  the  shells  of  cocoanuts  split  in 
halves  and  emptied  of  their  meat.  He  sent 
armies  on  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  and  marched 
them  off  again  with  a  crack  of  his  finger.  He 
controlled  the  orchestra,  in  the  matter  of  inci- 
dental music,  by  the  flash  of  the  footlights.  In 
fact,  every  movement  of  his  had  a  meaning  for 
some  one. 

He  was  a  slave  to  duty,  and  was  absolutely 

137 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

just  in  all  his  dealings  with  his  fellows.  He  did 
not  shield  the  delinquent  nor  attempt  to  curry 
favor  with  those  in  high  places.  Actors  some- 
times tried  to  shield  themselves  and  blame 
each  other  for  any  failure  to  speak  at  the 
proper  time.  It  was  useless  for  the  guilty  one 
to  appeal  to  Pitman.  He  would  say,  "No, 
Sir,  you  are  at  fault.  Didn't  I  hold  the  book  ?" 
The  prompt  book  was  the  law  from  which 
there  was  no  appeal.  Pitman  would  give  the 
word  at  first  in  a  loud,  penetrating  whisper, 
but  if  that  did  not  start  the  dramatic  wheels, 
he  would  shout  it  in  a  tone  that  would  reach 
the  back  row  in  the  gallery.  I  have  heard  of 
an  old  prompter  who  let  his  mind  wander  from 
the  book,  so  that  if  a  word  were  needed,  he 
sometimes  could  not  tell  what  had  been  spoken. 
At  such  times  he  would  venture  to  whisper 
"Notwithstanding."  James  R.  Pitman  was 
not  of  that  kind.  He  knew  just  where  the 
dialogue  had  halted,  and  who  had  stopped  the 
play. 

138 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

But  Homer  was  said  to  nod  at  times, 
and  even  Pitman  met  his  fate.  "Speed  the 
Plow"  was  being  played  for  a  single  night.  It 
had  not  been  very  well  prepared,  and  some  of 
the  actors  were  not  easy  in  their  lines.  In 
those  days  the  greenroom  was  in  a  little  tri- 
angular space  just  behind  the  prompt  corner 
on  the  right  of  the  stage.  Frank  Hardenberg, 
an  excellent  character  actor,  was  standing  in 
the  greenroom  door  just  behind  the  prompter. 
Pitman  heard  breakers  ahead,  as  the  voices  of 
the  actors  on  the  stage  ceased,  but  he  knew 
who  was  wanted.  He  turned  from  his  chair 
in  the  corner  without  rising  from  his  stooping 
position,  glanced  into  the  greenroom,  and  not 
seeing  the  person  he  was  after,  turned  and 
bolted  down-stairs  to  the  dressing  rooms. 
Meanwhile  Llardenbcrg  still  stood  looking  at 
the  stage,  saying,  as  he  coolly  surveyed  the 
scene,  "Three  of  them!  All  sticking!"  until 
poor  Pitman  came  rushing  back,  saying,  "  It's 
you!    It's  you  !     Goon!" 

139 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

Woe  betide  the  poor  actor  who  complained 
that  Pitman  gave  the  word  too  loud,  or  was  too 
abrupt  and  excited  when  he  came  down  to  the 

dressing  room  and  shouted,  "Mr. ,  the  stage 

is  waiting  for  you."  Pitman  had  an  exquisite 
revenge  the  next  time  that  actor  made  a  wait. 
He  would  appear  at  the  dressing  room  door  and 

say  in  a  low,  casual  tone,  "Mr. ,  the  stage 

has  been  waiting  for  you  for  five  minutes." 
Stage  waits  were  not  common,  so  we  remember 
the  few  times  they  did  happen. 

In  1875,  Genevieve  Rogers  was  playing  a 
big  star  engagement  at  the  Museum.  In  the 
opening  scene  of  her  play,  Georgia  Tyler  and 
Laura  Phillips  were  talking,  each  seated  at  a 
table  on  opposite  sides  of  the  stage.  One  of 
the  ladies  needed  the  word,  and  Mr.  Pitman 
gave  it  promptly.  Neither  lady  would  speak, 
so  he  gave  it  again  in  a  loud  tone.  Still  no 
response  from  the  obstinate  ladies  on  the  stage. 
Finally,  Miss  Phillips  arose  from  her  table, 
sauntered  up  to  the  center  door,  and  attempted 

140 


THE  TWO   RELIABLES 

to  bring  on  the  next  character  (Mr.  O.  H. 
Barr),  saying,  "Here  comes  Sir  George!" 
Barr,  standing  upon  his  dignity,  refused  to 
come  on,  and  instead  of  entering,  said  in  a 
voice  that  could  be  heard  all  over  the  theater, 
"Not  on  your  sweet  life."  Mr.  Pitman  had  no 
alternative  except  to  ring  down  the  curtain  and 
start  the  play  all  over  again. 

This  was  the  same  Ollie  Barr  who,  at  the 
close  of  John  McCullough's  engagement  that 
same  season,  had  studied  and  played  eleven 
parts  in  two  weeks,  —  many  of  them  new  to 
him.  The  twelfth  play  was  "Metamora", 
new  to  the  entire  Company.  Barr  was  almost 
mad  from  lack  of  sleep  and  worry  over  his 
hard  roles.  At  the  first  rehearsal,  he  was  about 
to  enter  at  a  cue  he  was  to  receive  from  Mr. 
Burrows.  Barr  is  seen  off  stage  and  some  one 
asks,  "Who  comes  yonder?"  to  which  Mr. 
Burrows  replies,  "A  moody  youth  somewhat 
o'erworn  with  study."  The  lines  were  so  appli- 
cable to  poor  Barr  that  all  the  people  on  the 

141 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

stage  set  up  a  roar  of  laughter.  This  startled 
and  vexed  McCullough,  who  said,  "What's  the 
matter  ?  I  didn't  know  there  were  any  comedy 
lines  in  this  scene."  We  saw  the  comedy  of  the 
situation  all  the  same  ! 

The  most  careful  man  will  sometimes  make 
mistakes.  Mr.  Pitman  hardly  ever  failed  to 
inspect  the  stage  before  ringing  up  the  curtain, 
thus  making  sure  that  actors,  scenes,  and 
properties  were  in  their  correct  positions.  He 
failed  once  in  all  the  years  that  I  knew  him  ! 
The  play  was  a  little  domestic  comedy,  "The 
Chimney  Corner."  It  had  been  given  all  the 
week,  so  vigilance  was  relaxed.  Mr.  Robert 
McClannin,  a  splendid  actor  of  old  men's  parts, 
was  to  be  discovered  sleeping  in  a  chair  by  the 
fireside.  Up  went  the  curtain  —  he  was  not 
there !  Mr.  Pitman  tried  to  persuade  him  to 
go  on  and  take  his  place  in  the  chair.  He 
could  have  done  so  without  attracting  the 
attention  of  one  person  in  the  audience,  but 
his   dignity  as  an  actor  was  at  stake,   and  he 

142 


THE  TWO   RELIABLES 

would  not  sacrifice  that  to  save  the  scene,  so 
the  curtain  was  rung  down,  and  the  play  started 
again.  This  was  an  extreme  case.  Many 
actors  would  have  tried  to  save  the  scene,  but 
our  "old  man"  knew  that  he  was  clearly  within 
his  rights,  and  nothing  could  move  him. 

Dear  old  Pitman!  His  "still  small  voice" 
in  the  prompt  place  was  often  our  salvation. 
He  always  managed  to  live  near  the  sea,  and 
to  keep  a  rowboat.  There  were  many  ardent 
disciples  of  Izaac  Walton  in  the  Company,  and 
they  made  trips  down  the  harbor  in  Pitman's 
boat,  sometimes  for  cod  at  Faun  Bar  below 
Deer  Island  and,  in  the  smelting  season,  all 
about  the  upper  and  lower  harbor  in  quest  of 
those  shiny  little  fish.  During  a  running  play, 
they  would  even  go  down  for  half  a  day  on 
Wednesday  or  Saturday,  and  return  in  time 
for  the  matinee.  The  catch  was  frequently 
abundant,  for  they  were  skillful  anglers,  and 
they  delighted  to  bring  their  spoils  up  to  the 
Museum  as  a  gift  to  their  fellow  players.     You 

H3 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

may  believe  it  was  no  mean  gift.  Such  ab- 
solutely fresh  fish  could  not  be  bought  at  any 
price  in  the  Boston  market.  Nate  Salsbury, 
J.  W.  Norris  (who  became  the  husband  of 
pretty  Josie  Batchelder),  and  James  Burrows 
were  usually  of  this  party. 

Little  fishing  excursions  to  Mystic  Pond  in 
Medford  were  common  during  the  early  autumn 
days,  at  which  a  much  larger  number  would 
be  present.  Burrows  usually  acted  as  chef, 
assisted  by  Salsbury.  W.  J.  LeMoyne  would 
mix  the  salad,  while  William  Warren,  Dexter 
Smith  (the  music  publisher  and  composer  of 
many  delightful  old  songs),  Jimmy  Nolan, 
"Uncle  Jim"  Ring,  and  half  a  score  of  disciples 
would  look  on  while  the  fish  were  frying  and 
the  coffee  making.  It  was  a  jolly  group  that 
gathered  around  the  spread  on  the  grass,  and 
Mr.  Warren  would  entertain  the  party  with  his 
rare  jests  and  still  more  rare  stories,  which  he 
told  with  much  unction.  He  would  always 
preface  his   stories  with   an  apologetic   remark, 

144 


t/3 

o 
o 

e 


C/3 

c 


THE  TWO   RELIABLES 

"I  suppose  this  is  an  awful  old  chestnut,"  and 
follow  that  with  something  so  apropos  that 
even  if  it  were  old,  it  seemed  new  to  all  of  his 
hearers. 

Joseph  Jefferson  asserted  that  Mr.  Warren 
originated  the  use  of  the  word  "chestnut", 
very  much  in  vogue  in  my  early  days.  He  says 
that  there  was  a  comedy  called  "The  Broken 
Sword",  in  which  Captain  Zavier  and  Pablo, 
a  comedy  part,  are  the  chief  characters.  The 
captain,  a  sort  of  Baron  Munchausen  in  his 
way,  says : 

"I  entered  the  woods  of  Collaway,  when 
suddenly  from  the  thick  boughs  of  a  cork- 
tree —  " 

Pablo  interrupts  him  with  the  words,  "A 
chestnut!    Captain,  a  chestnut!" 

"Bah!"  replies  the  captain.  "Booby,  I  say 
a  cork-tree  !" 

"A  chestnut,"  reiterates  Pablo.  "I  should 
know  as  well  as  you,  having  heard  you  tell  the 
story  these  twenty-seven  times." 

145 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Mr.  Warren,  who  had  often  played  the  part 
of  Pablo,  was  once  at  a  stag  dinner  when  one  of 
the  guests  told  a  story  of  doubtful  originality. 

"A  chestnut!"  murmured  Mr.  Warren,  quot- 
ing from  the  play,  "  I  have  heard  you  tell  the  tale 
these  twenty-seven  times."  The  application 
of  the  lines  pleased  the  rest  of  the  table,  and 
when  the  party  broke  up,  each  helped  to  spread 
the  story  and  Mr.  Warren's  commentary.  And 
that,  Mr.  Jefferson  believed,  was  the  origin  of 
the  word  "Chestnut." 

Those  were  delectable  chestnuts  that 
sputtered  around  the  fire  at  Mystic  Pond,  and 
it  was  a  contented  group  of  actors  that  came 
back  from  their  little  outing  and  resumed  their 
work  of  amusing  the  Boston  public.  Pitman 
was  supremely  happy  at  all  such  times,  and 
never  had  to  give  the  word  but  once  when  he 
held  up  his  plate  for  another  helping  of  fish 
and  fried  potatoes. 

The  curtain  has  rung  down  for  the  last  time 
upon  all  of  that  merry  group  except  one,  and 

146 


THE  TWO   RELIABLES 

he  tells  me  that  life  is  made  much  brighter  and 
happier  for  him  by  the  remembrance  of  those 
good  old  times. 

Mr.  Pitman,  after  leaving  the  Museum,  had 
many  years  of  active  and  honorable  work  as 
stage  director  at  the  Castle  Square  and  other 
theaters.  He  acquired  a  competency  of  this 
world's  goods,  and  did  not  answer  to  the  final 
summons  until  February,  1914,  at  the  age  of 
seventy- two. 

James  Burrows  was  born  in  North  Chelms- 
ford, Massachusetts,  May  14,  1842.  His 
paternal  ancestors  came  from  England  in  1635. 
His  great-grandfather  and  his  grandfather 
settled  in  Concord,  Massachusetts,  early  in  the 
1 700s,  and  were  residing  there  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  War  for  Independence.  Both  were 
soldiers  in  the  Continental  army  during  the 
war  period,  —  the  former  with  the  rank  of 
captain  —  and  both  survived  at  its  close,  so 
that  this  actor  can  claim  to  be  a  true  Yankee. 

147 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

The  lad  was  hopelessly  stage-struck  before  he 
had  ever  seen  a  theater,  and  he  sent  to  New  York 
for  a  dozen  plays  when  he  was  only  fourteen 
years  old.  The  postmaster  of  the  country 
village  where  he  then  lived  refused  to  deliver 
them  into  his  hands  until  he  had  opened  and 
examined  them,  and  then  he  urged  the  lad  to 
burn  them  at  once,  as  he  thought  such  stuff 
unfit  to  be  read. 

The  boy's  dramatic  instinct  found  partial 
vent  through  recitations  of  poetry  at  school 
exhibitions.  He  states  a  harrowing  experience 
when  he  figured  as  a  "Colored  Parson"  at  an 
entertainment  for  charity  in  the  village  church. 
His  effort  was  a  "Burlesque  Colored  Sermon." 
He  had  no  knowledge  of  burned  cork  or  its  easy 
application  and  removal,  so  he  was  forced  to 
make  his  face  black  with  half-burned  embers 
from  the  kitchen  stove.  Getting  into  an  empty 
pew,  he  stooped  from  sight  of  the  audience, 
and  began  to  rub  on  the  half  powdered  char- 
coal.    The  gritty  particles  tore  his  tender  skin, 

148 


THE  TWO   RELIABLES 

and  stung  his  flesh,  so  that  long  before  his  face 
was  thought  dark  enough  for  the  occasion,  he 
was  bleeding  from  numerous  cuts,  but  he  held 
out  in  the  interests  of  art  until  he  was  pro- 
nounced black  enough.  It  is  needless  to  add 
that  his  success  in  removing  the  color  was  not 
brilliant.  The  hard  water  from  the  village 
pump,  minus  soap,  did  little  more  than  set  the 
color  to  a  fast  black,  which  stuck  to  the  poor 
lad  for  days. 

When  Burrows  was  seventeen,  he  came  to 
Boston  and  began  to  write  letters  to  managers, 
asking  for  any  position  on  the  stage.  Those 
hard-working  officials  generally  consigned  his 
applications  to  the  waste-paper  basket,  and  he 
received  only  two  replies,  —  one  from  W.  H. 
Smith  and  one  from  Mr.  E.  F.  Keach,  both 
of  the  Boston  Museum.  The  outbreak  of 
the  Civil  War  furnished  him  with  a  stage  so 
wide,  an  action  so  sublime,  that  he  ceased  to 
sigh  for  the  mimic  world.  lie  remained  in  the 
army  until    the    close    of    the   War,   serving    in 

149 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

the  Sixteenth  Massachusetts  Infantry  and  the 
First  United  States  Volunteer  Veterans  and 
taking  part  in  thirty  battles  and  skirmishes. 
This  honorable  service  ended,  he  came  back 
to  Massachusetts  with  the  same  old  longing 
for  the  stage,  and  began  a  new  assault  upon 
the  managers  through  the  United  States  mail. 
This  time  he  had  better  luck.  A  courteous 
reply  from  Mr.  R.  M.  Field  requested  him  to 
call  at  the  Boston  Museum,  January  17,  1866. 
He  then  learned  that  the  only  road  for  a  novice 
was  one  that  led  through  the  supers'  room,  so 
he  took  that  road,  and  was  regularly  entered 
as  an  apprentice.  The  play  that  had  the 
longest  run  that  season  was  "The  Sons  of  the 
Cape",  by  Doctor  J.  S.  Jones.  Mr.  Burrows 
had  his  share  in  making  the  cloth  sea  waves. 
He  stood  at  the  upper  entrance  on  the  right, 
and  during  the  whole  run  never  failed  to  be 
told  by  the  nervous  leading  man,  L.  R.  Shewell, 
just  when  to  drop  his  portion  of  the  cloth  so 
that  the  boat  with  the  hero  might  go  on  into 

150 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

the  deep  sea.  If  Mr.  Shewell  had  only  known 
that  this  young  super  was  to  be  known  in  later 
years  about  the  theater  as  "Old  Reliable", 
because  he  was  sure  to  be  attentive  to  all  of 
his  duties,  he  would  not  have  wounded  the 
young  man's  feelings  by  his  needless  admoni- 
tions. 

When  Mr.  Shewell  had  his  benefit  that 
season,  Mr.  Burrows  was  cast  for  his  first 
speaking  part,  —  Francisco  in  "Hamlet."  Mr. 
Field  had  promised  to  keep  an  eye  on  him,  and 
finding  that  Burrows  could  make  himself  heard 
over  the  footlights,  engaged  him  as  a  regular 
member  of  the  Company  for  the  ensuing  year. 
The  season  opened  August  15,  1866,  with  the 
young  actor  in  the  character  of  Dwindle  in 
"Town  and  Country",  and  from  that  night  on, 
he  worked  his  way  slowly  from  small  beginnings 
to  responsible  characters. 

In  August,  1874,  he  joined  the  Providence 
Opera  House  Company,  and  remained  there 
one   season.     The   call   of   Boston   and   his   old 

151 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

associations  was  so  strong  that  he  could  not 
remain  away,  and  the  season  of  1875  found 
him  back  at  the  Museum,  where  he  met  a  cordial 
welcome  from  the  public  and  his  fellow  players. 
He  had  offers  from  time  to  time  to  go  to  New 
York  and  also  to  Philadelphia,  but  life  at  the 
Museum  was  so  satisfying  that  he  put  all  such 
temptation  aside. 

Until  1888,  he  lived  and  worked  in  this  ideal 
atmosphere,  when  Richard  Mansfield  induced 
him  to  go  to  London  with  him.  This  seemed 
such  a  good  opportunity  for  an  educational 
growth  that  Mr.  Burrows  could  not  well  refuse 
it.  The  glamour  of  a  London  season  could  not 
keep  him  from  harking  back  to  the  old 
Museum,  however,  so  we  again  find  his  name 
in  the  list  of  the  Company  for  the  season  of 
1 889-1 890.  This  time  he  had  come  home  to 
stay,  for  he  remained  just  as  long  as  the  old 
theater  adhered  to  the  stock  company  sys- 
tem, rounding  out,  in  1893,  twenty-five  full 
seasons. 

152 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

It  was  upon  the  stage  of  this  historic  house 
that  Mr.  Burrows  found  his  wife  that  was  to  be 
in  the  person  of  Hattie  A.  Hill. 

It  was  here,  also,  when  playing  McCarty,  in 
'Romany  Rye",  an  Irish  emigrant  with  a 
large  family,  that  he  carried  his  infant  son, 
Warren  Burrows,  in  his  arms,  thus  giving  him 
his  "first  appearance  on  any  stage."  William 
Warren  was  godfather  to  this  lad,  who  has  since 
followed  in  his  father's  and  godfather's  foot- 
steps on  many  stages  throughout  this  country. 

Mr.  Burrows  was  an  interested  witness  of 
the  gradual  changes  that  took  place  in  the 
personnel  of  the  old  Company,  changes  not 
entirely  for  the  better.  He  recalls  the  fault- 
less performances  of  the  classic  old  plays  and 
contributes  a  notice  of  the  last  time  " The  Road 
to  Ruin"  was  acted,  with  the  suggestion  that 
at  no  previous  period  could  Boston  critics  have 
written  such  strictures.  He  had  played  in  it 
nearly  every  season  from  1866  to  1889.  It  had 
been   regarded   as   one  of  the   sure   attractions, 

*53 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

like  "The  School  for  Scandal",  and  had  never 
failed  to  meet  the  unqualified  approbation  of 
both  critics  and  public. 

NOTICE 

BOSTON    MUSEUM:     "THE    ROAD    TO 

RUIN" 

The  old  comedy  season  at  the  Museum  opened 
Monday  night  with  "The  Road  to  Ruin"  —  a 
play  that,  in  spite  of  its  name,  proved  a  road  to 
success  last  year,  as  it  is  likely  to  do  again. 
Last  night's  presentation,  it  must  be  admitted, 
was  not  faultless.  Several  of  the  leading  actors 
were  far  from  letter  perfect  in  their  parts,  and 
there  was  in  consequence  not  a  little  stumbling 
and  some  mumbling  together  with  perfunctory 
periods  that  were  quite  the  reverse  of  inspiring. 
The  frequent  blunders  of  the  scene-shifters  did 
not  mend  matters,  and  the  material  element  of 
the  performance  might  be  distinctly  improved 
were  the  chairs  and  tables  arranged  with  a 
thought  less  of  stiffness.  But,  notwithstanding 
these  and  other  detractions,  of  which  mention 
will  be  made  later,  the  entertainment  was  one 
quite  worthy  the  enviable  fame  of  the  Boston 
Museum  as  the  standard  comedy  theater  of 
Boston. 

The  cast  of  characters  this  year  is  in  the  main 
the  same  as  last  year,  and,  generally  speaking, 

154 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

the  several  personages  of  the  drama  are  in  able 
and  congenial  hands.  Mr.  Boniface's  Old 
Dornton  is  a  pleasure  to  the  eye,  and  the  dual 
nature  of  the  irascible,  warm-hearted  old  gen- 
tleman, hurling  denunciations  on  the  head  of 
his  son  in  one  breath,  and  in  the  next  with  fond 
peevishness  defending  him  against  aspersions, 
which,  compared  with  his  own  charges,  are  of 
small  consequence,  is  convincingly  presented, 
although  marred  by  certain  mannerisms  which 
have  apparently  become  constitutional  with 
Mr.  Boniface.  As  Harry  Dornton,  Mr.  Plymp- 
ton  is  also  very  happy  as  to  dress,  and  in  manner 
he  fits  the  part  perfectly.  He  is  the  perfect 
picture  of  the  impulsive  human  animal,  aglow 
with  health  and  intoxicated  with  the  spirit  of 
youth  ;  but  it  seems  to  be  quite  impossible  for 
Mr.  Plympton  to  restrain  his  natural  tendency 
to  overact  wherever  the  opportunity  offers. 
Mr.  Davenport,  Mr.  Abbe,  Miss  Agnes  Acres 
and  Miss  Fannie  Addison  each  does  excellent 
work,  the  last  named  especially.  Her  char- 
acterization of  the  self-seeking  and  husband- 
seeking  widow  is  delicious  and  full  of  quiet 
touches  of  humor  which  a  less  gifted  artist 
might  fail  of  discovering.  But  the  honors  of 
the  evening  were  clearly  with  what  may  be 
called  the  "  big  four  I  "  Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.  Barron, 
Mr.  Burrows,  and  Miss  O'Leary.  The  Gold- 
finch of  Mr.  Wilson,  as  a  low  comedy  character, 
gives  a  better  balance  to  the  play,  according  to 
modern  notions,  than  a  comedy  part  of  more 
refined  eccentricities,  and  is  in  the  nature  of  a 

155 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

relief  from  the  staid  and  sober  strain  which  is 
the  dominant  feature  of  the  play.  Accepting 
Mr.  Wilson's  conception  as  the  proper  one,  his 
performance  is  equal  to  some  of  his  best  efforts, 
and  in  make-up  he  is  admirable.  He  is  the 
horse-gentleman  confessed  in  the  grotesque  cut 
of  his  clothing,  and  the  jaunty,  fly-away  manner 
it  is  worn,  in  the  strut  and  swagger,  in  the 
elevation  of  the  elbow,  and  especially  in  the 
parenthetical  legs,  which  are  in  themselves  a 
triumph  of  art. 

Mr.  Barron  is  so  completely  un-Barroned  as 
Silky  that  his  identity  is  completely  lost,  and 
it  was  several  minutes  last  night  before  he 
was  generally  recognized.  His  acting  of  the 
character  is  throughout  a  very  superior 
achievement,  ranking  with  his  best  and  one 
can  hardly  say  too  much  in  his  praise.  Sulky 
is  not  a  part  that  affords  opportunities  for  an 
actor  to  make  himself  the  favorite  of  his  au- 
dience, but  it  gives  an  actor  a  chance  for  good 
acting,  and  Mr.  Burrows  accepts  that  chance 
and  makes  the  most  of  it.  In  its  way  his 
Sulky  is  one  of  the  finest  personations  that 
has  been  seen  for  many  a  day. 


"The  Road  to  Ruin"  has  never  been  played 
in  Boston  since  that  year  1889,  but  previous  to 
that  time  it  had  hundreds  of  representations 
and  never  one  that  was   not  entirely  satisfac- 

156 


THE  TWO  RELIABLES 

tory.  The  year  1889  marked  the  new  order  of 
things,  and  the  old  successes  had  passed  with 
the  old  players. 

Mr.  Burrows  continued  in  the  employ  of  Mr. 
R.  M.  Field  while  the  latter  controlled  "Shore 
Acres"  in  New  York  and  on  the  road  during 
the  seasons  of  1 893-1 894,  and  he  remained 
with  that  play  for  the  twelve  seasons  that 
followed. 

He  has  resided  in  Lynn  for  the  past  fifteen 
years,  and  has  acted  from  time  to  time  with 
stock  companies  there.  This  present  year 
(191 5)  rounds  out  his  fiftieth  of  actual  work  on 
the  stage.  He  looks  back  to  the  old  Boston 
Museum  as  a  sort  of  heaven  on  earth,  and 
reviews  his  many  years  in  the  midst  of  such 
happy  surroundings  with  pride  and  gratitude. 


157 


CHAPTER  X 
"Pinafore"  Days 

THE  season  of  1878  brought  about  what 
might  be  called  the  transition  from  the 
old  days  to  the  present.  The  marked  change 
came  when  the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  operas  made 
their  appearance,  for  in  that  year  new  blood 
was  infused  into  the  Company. 

When  "Pinafore"  was  produced,  these 
talented  newcomers,  including  George  W.  Wilson, 
made  the  opera  memorable.  "Pinafore"  was 
presented  for  the  first  time  in  America  at  the 
Boston  Museum  on  November  25,  1878,  and 
took  the  theatergoing  public  by  storm,  with  its 
tuneful  music  and  the  dash  and  go  of  the  whole 
thing.  It  was  a  revelation,  artistic  and  com- 
plete in  every  way,  as  were  all  the  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan  operas. 

158 


"PINAFORE"   DAYS 

Marie  Wainwright,  an  actress  of  marked 
ability  and  great  personal  charm,  appeared  as 
Josephine,  and  proved  her  versatility.  Her 
singing  and  acting  of  the  role  was  a  genuine 
surprise. 

Then  there  were  J.  H.  Jones  and  his  pretty 
wife,  Rose  Temple.  They  were  singers  of 
ability,  well  equipped  for  comic  opera.  She 
looked  like  a  little  cherub,  and  was  adorable  in 
the  part  of  Ralph  Rackstraw.  He  played  the 
part  of  Captain  Corcoran  with  much  effect. 

An  amusing  story  is  told  of  Mr.  Jones  and 
his  young  wife.  Rose  Temple,  an  English  girl, 
came  to  America  with  her  sister,  Bessie  Temple, 
a  well-known  dancer  of  that  day.  Very  soon 
after  her  arrival,  she  met,  loved,  and  married 
J.  H.  Jones.  Shortly  after  their  marriage, 
they  joined  a  company  en  route  for  California, 
and  incidentally  made  it  their  honeymoon  trip. 
After  some  days'  travel,  the  train  stopped  at 
a  remote  station,  Mr.  Jones  got  off  the  train, 
and    somehow    wandered    too    far    away.     The 

159 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

train  started,  leaving  him  behind,  with  no 
possible  chance  of  connection  with  another 
train  for  some  time. 

The  members  of  the  company  gathered  about 
the  little  bride  to  offer  consolation,  when  to 
their  surprise  she  laughingly  said,  "My  word, 
isn't  it  droll ;  and  Jim  has  left  his  pipe."  Little 
Rose  Temple  was  always  complacent,  no  matter 
how  trying  the  situation. 

Though  many  years  have  passed  since  those 
" Pinafore"  days,  yet  it  hardly  seems  possible 
that  the  stalwart  young  man  who  loomed  up 
head  and  shoulders  above  her,  with  whom  I  met 
her  walking  in  London  a  short  time  ago,  could 
have  been  the  little  baby  in  arms,  the  pride 
and  joy  of  the  girl  wife  and  mother  who  fas- 
cinated the  audiences  of  "Pinafore"  days. 

And  there  was  pretty  Lizzie  Harold !  How 
irresistibly  funny  she  was  as  the  Bumboat 
woman.  Her  song  of  Little  Buttercup  was 
always  received  with  storms  of  applause.  Her 
best  work   was    in    slavey  parts ;    Belinda    in 

1 60 


3 
O 


3 


Vi 


X 


N 


2 

4-1 

O 


en 


E 
u 

h 

u 

en 

O 


u 

U 


en 
03 


O 

a 
tj 

en 


v 
-a 

CO 


"PINAFORE"   DAYS 

"Our  Boys",  Topsy  in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin", 
always  delighted  the  audience.  She  retired 
from  the  stage  when  she  married  Mr.  Comley, 
and  devoted  herself  to  home  and  family. 

Every  one  about  the  theater  was  somewhat 
doubtful  as  to  the  success  of  "Pinafore."  Even 
Mr.  Field  was  uncertain  about  the  outcome  till 
the  song  "He  is  an  Englishman",  sung  by 
Joseph  Haworth,  took  the  audience  by  storm, 
and  received  encore  after  encore.  Joseph 
Haworth  played  the  part  of  Bill  Bobstay  and 
added  greatly  to  the  success  of  the  opera. 

Mr.  Haworth  was  a  painstaking  actor  and 
absolutely  lived  in  his  work.  I  remember  Jack 
Mason  jokingly  declared  that  Haworth  used  to 
dress  up  pillows  and  play  his  love  scenes  with 
a  "pillow  lady"  in  the  privacy  of  his  study. 
However,  true  or  not  as  it  may  be,  his  earnest- 
ness was  praiseworthy.  He  was  very  versatile, 
but  he  excelled  in  tragedy.  When  he  was  in 
support  of  Mr.  Richard  Mansfield,  he  was  said 
to  surpass  the  star  in  rendition  of  Shakespearean 

161 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

characters,  and  his  performance  of  Hamlet 
might  be  classed  among  the  best.  He  was  also 
splendid  in  romantic  roles,  and  starred  with 
success  as  Elliott  Grey  in  "Rosedale." 

I  remember  an  incident  that  occurred  on  an 
opening  night  of  a  new  play.  Mr.  Haworth 
and  I  opened  the  play  in  a  scene  together.  The 
setting  was  a  library,  and  what  is  called  a  box 
scene,  which  means  closed  in  on  all  sides,  with 
one  door  for  an  opening,  so  the  actors  are 
hidden  from  the  view  of  the  prompter.  The 
scene  started,  and  all  was  going  well,  when 
suddenly  Mr.  Haworth  reeled,  and  whispering 
"I  am  very  ill",  abruptly  left  the  stage,  leaving 
me  alone. 

No  one  behind  the  scenes  knew  what  had 
happened.  I  hoped  that  the  prompter,  realizing 
that  there  was  a  lull  in  the  conversation,  would 
come  to  the  rescue  and  ring  down  the  curtain, 
and  I  carried  on  the  situation  as  best  I  could. 
There  happened  to  be  on  the  table  one  of  the 
latest  novels  of  that  day,  which  fortunately  I 

162 


" PINAFORE''   DAYS 

had  read,  so  to  fill  the  gap  till  assistance  came, 
I  introduced  a  soliloquy  in  connection  with  the 
story.  In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Haworth  made  a 
dash  for  an  open  window.  The  cold  air  revived 
him,  and  he  returned  and  resumed  the  scene,  the 
audience  being  quite  oblivious  of  any  unusual 
happening. 

Joseph  Haworth  was  the  means  of  in- 
troducing his  cousin,  Miriam  O'Leary,  to 
Boston  audiences.  Miriam's  first  appearance 
was  in  "Colleen  Bawn."  She  was  cast  for 
one  of  the  guests  in  the  ballroom  scene  and  was 
given  a  single  line  to  speak,  "We  have  danced 
enough ;  'tis  nearly  seven  o'clock."  Cousin 
Joe  had  coached  her  diligently  for  days,  and  the 
entire  O'Leary  family  were  in  a  state  of  in- 
tense excitement  till  after  the  debut.  Miriam 
has  said  that  for  weeks  the  lines  were  spoken 
at  home  by  the  children,  apropos  of  anything 
that  might  suggest  boredom. 

Cousin  Joe  made  no  mistake  when  he  pre- 
dicted a  successful  career  for  his   talented    rel- 

163 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

ative,  nor  did  it  take  long  for  that  prediction 
to  come  true.  Miriam  O'Leary  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  actresses  of  her  day,  and  played 
many  parts  well. 

When  Clyde  Fitch's  first  play,  "Betty's 
Finish",  was  given  its  first  production  at  the 
Museum,  Miss  O'Leary  proved  herself  an 
actress  of  unusual  ability,  and  made  the  little 
play  a  success  from  the  start.  During  her 
engagement  at  the  Museum,  she  married 
Doctor  David  Collins,  and  has  since  succeeded 
in  the  roles  of  wife  and  mother.  She  is  devoted 
to  her  five  splendid  children,  and  the  footlights 
and  their  allurements  have  no  charm  for  her. 

Miss  Sadie  Martinot  appeared  first  on  the 
stage  of  the  Eagle  Theater  in  New  York,  and 
remained  there  for  one  year.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  she  went  to  a  dramatic  agency  and 
applied  for  a  position.  She  possessed  a  great 
deal  of  confidence,  and  being  fully  equipped 
with  charm  and  beauty,  she  was  ready  to  con- 
quer the  world.     After   assuring   the   dramatic 

164 


u 


PINAFORE"   DAYS 


agent  that  she  was  fitted  for  any  position  that 
might  be  offered  her,  she  was  given  the  choice 
of  two  opportunities,  both  in  Boston.  One 
was  at  the  Globe  Theater  for  the  role  of  Cupid 
in  "Pippins";  the  other  was  at  the  Boylston 
Museum  on  Washington  Street.  The  latter 
theater  offered  her  a  larger  salary  and  a  longer 
engagement,  so  she  took  it. 

She  said  she  looked  upon  Boston  as  an  ob- 
scure town,  anyhow,  and  coming  from  the  great 
Metropolis  she  was  prepared  to  astonish  New 
Englanders.  No  one  was  more  amused  at  her 
conceit  of  those  days  than  the  little  lady  herself. 
She  described  herself  as  dressed  in  her  best 
Sunday  gown,  a  Christmas  gift  from  her  mother, 
with  her  full  name  embroidered  on  the  buttons 
down  her  back  in  steel  beads,  a  letter  on  each 
button.  She  was  billed  as  appearing  in  a  great 
song  and  dance  creation,  with  imitations  of  Made- 
moiselle Aimee,  singing  "Pretty  as  a  Picture." 
The  afterpiece  in  which  she  played  the  part  of  the 
wicked  godmother  was  called  "The  Erl  King." 

165 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

She  said  the  great  feature  of  her  performance 
was  a  pair  of  magnificently  embroidered  tights 
which  she  brought  from  New  York  to  dazzle 
the  Hubbites.  From  the  audience,  however, 
those  gorgeous  coverings  gave  her  limbs  the 
appearance  of  being  tattooed,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  discard  them  after  the  first  night. 

After  a  short  stay  at  the  Boylston  Museum, 
Miss  Martinot  was  brought  to  the  notice  of 
Mr.  R.  M.  Field,  and  joined  the  Museum  Com- 
pany in  1878,  where  she  received  splendid 
training  and  became  very  popular  with  Museum 
audiences.  Shortly  after  joining  the  Company, 
she  married  Mr.  Fred  Stinson,  who  was  then 
manager,  under  Rich  and  Harris,  of  the  Howard 
Athenaeum.  She  was  married  at  the  Revere 
House  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  and  Charles 
Fechter,  who  was  playing  his  last  engagement 
at  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  gave  the  little  bride 
away.     I  think  that  was  in  1879  or  1880. 

She  was  a  wonderfully  pretty  girl,  just  like  a 
Dresden    figure.     Never    have    I    seen    a    head 

166 


"PINAFORE"   DAYS 

more  daintily  set  on  shoulders.  She  was  an 
attractive  actress  and  made  the  part  of  Hebe 
in  "Pinafore"  prominent,  and  was  exquisite  as 
Lady  Angela  in  "Patience."  An  unusually 
clever  musician,  I  recall  that  one  time  when 
we  were  traveling  on  the  road,  the  score 
of  "Patience"  was  missing.  Everybody  con- 
cerned was  in  an  awful  state  of  mind,  but 
Miss  Martinot  came  to  the  rescue,  and  not 
only  scored  the  orchestra  parts,  but  arranged 
the  incidental  music  as  well. 

When  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  came  to  the 
Museum,  she  was  selected  for  the  Irish  colleens 
in  his  plays.  He  gave  a  great  deal  of  his 
personal  attention  to  the  direction  of  his  plays, 
particularly  to  the  parts  of  Moya  Doolan  in 
"The  Shaughraun"  and  Eily  O'Connor  in  the 
"Colleen  Bawn."  At  the  close  of  his  engage- 
ment, Miss  Martinot  joined  his  company  and 
went  to  London.  She  left  us  so  abruptly  and 
unceremoniously  that  Mr.  Field  never  forgave 
her,  so  that  her  connection  with  the  Museum 

167 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

was  severed  for  all  time.  We  missed  the  dear, 
irresponsible  child  who  had  wandered  into  our 
ranks  in  her  early  teens  and  won  her  way  into 
the  heart  of  every  member  of  the  Company. 

Mr.  B.  R.  Graham  as  Dick  Deadeye  in 
"Pinafore"  made  a  hit  from  the  start.  His 
make-up  was  screamingly  funny,  and  his  acting 
and  singing  very  praiseworthy.  Mr.  Graham 
was  particularly  happy  in  the  role  of  an  adven- 
turer, possessing  sang  froid  and  suavity  of 
manner  most  essential  for  such  characters.  He 
played  the  villains  with  us,  and  was  so  true  to 
life  that  he  was  often  hissed  by  the  audience. 

He  was  appearing  as  a  naughty  man  in  "Led 
Astray ':  when  this  incident  occurred.  As 
smoking  was  not  allowed  in  the  dressing  rooms, 
he  decided  to  go  out  on  the  fire-escape  leading 
off  his  room  to  enjoy  a  smoke.  After  wedging 
a  chair  in  place  on  the  fire-escape,  he  proceeded 
to  make  himself  comfortable.  The  windows  of 
the  dressing  rooms  overlooked  Court  Square, 
and   the   fire-escapes    ran   up   from   the   second 

1 68 


"PINAFORE"   DAYS 

story  to  the  top,  broken  by  very  small  bal- 
conies. Air.  Graham  filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it, 
and  being  comfortably  placed,  called  out  to  a 
brother  actor  who  shared  his  dressing  room, 
"Now  for  a  dang  good  smoke"  (a  favorite  ex- 
pression), when  the  chair  gave  way,  and  he 
was  precipitated  to  the  floor  below.  For- 
tunately, he  escaped  with  only  a  badly  sprained 
ankle.  We  were  horror-stricken  when  we 
heard  of  the  accident,  but  with  the  fortitude 
that  most  actors  possess  under  such  trying 
conditions,  he  persisted  in  playing  that  night, 
though  suffering  intense  agony.  Mr.  Graham 
joined  the  Museum  Company  in  1878  and  was 
always  a  popular  member. 

In  the  early  days  at  the  Museum,  fire-escape 
precautions  were  not  so  carefully  regulated  as 
they  are  now.  At  one  time,  when  the  fire 
inspectors  were  inspecting  the  building,  they 
were  up  in  the  "flies",  and  encountered  Mr. 
Glessing,  who  was  the  scenic  artist  at  the 
Museum  for  many  years.     They  began  to  ex- 

169 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

plain  to  him  the  many  ways  to  escape  in  case 
of  fire.  One  way  was  to  attach  himself  to  a 
rope  and  go  down  hand  over  hand.  Mr. 
Glessing  was  huge  in  size,  and  very  retiring  In 
manner,  and  after  listening  attentively,  he 
asked,  "Do  I  understand  that  in  case  of  fire  I 
am  to  manipulate  that  rope  in  this  fashion  (at 
the  same  time  demonstrating  the  directions 
given),  hand  over  hand?" 

"That  is  it  exactly,"  explained  the  inspector. 

"Well,  my  dear  sir,  were  I  to  try  that 
method,  I  should  go  down  heels  over  head." 

The  intrusion  of  the  fire  inspectors  caused  a 
great  deal  of  excitement  up  in  the  "flies  region" 
that  day.  Mr.  Glessing  had  for  a  neighbor 
dear  old  Susy  Mason,  the  wardrobe  mistress. 
The  wardrobe  had  been  transferred  from  the 
depths  below  to  the  flies  above,  and  was 
guarded  with  a  jealous  care  by  Miss  Susy. 
The  costumes  in  her  faithful  charge  worn  by 
Mr.  Warren  were  reverenced  and  regarded  by 
the  good  soul  as  a  sacred  trust.     If  any  male 

170 


"PINAFORE"   DAYS 

member  of  the  Company  seemed  lacking  in 
enthusiasm  over  the  costume  Susy  had  selected 
for  him  from  her  vast  stock,  one  might  expect 
to  hear  her  say:  "Mr.  Warren  wore  that  coat 
for  many  years,  as  far  back  as  1857,  and  it  was 
good  enough  for  him." 

Kind-hearted  Susy  was  quite  voluble  at 
times,  and  the  fire-escape  episode  caused  her 
much  anxiety.  Not  for  herself;  as  she  ex- 
pressed it,  "There  is  some  possible  chance  for 
escape  for  me,  but  what  would  become  of  the 
wardrobe  and  Mr.  Warren's  Sir  Peter  Teazle 
costume  that  was  made  for  him  in  —  " ; 
And  then  she  would  enumerate  the  number  of 
spangles  that  were  sewed  on,  every  one  by 
hand,  and  the  quantity  and  quality  of  materials 
used  in  the  making  of  the  treasured  garments. 

Miss  Ormond  (Sadie)  also  superintended  the 
wardrobe  department,  and  was  an  authority  on 
everything  that  pertained  to  costume  details. 
Through  her,  one  learned  the  proper  use  of 
footgear,    from    sandals    to    Oxford    ties ;    the 

171 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Scottish  filibeg  and  sporran ;  the  correctness  of 
sleeves,  —  whether  slashed  or  puffed ;  when 
and  how  to  wear  the  large,  square,  upstanding 
ruff",  also  the  cestus  and  girdle  or  hanging 
pouch.  The  headgear  of  the  Grecian  maiden 
with  its  three-banded  fillet  and  the  snood  of 
the  Scotch  lassie  were  all  carefully  defined  by 
her.  The  girl  who  played  pages  must  know 
about  doublet,  trunks,  and  hose,  and  the 
draping  of  the  toga.  All  this  detail  was 
troublesome  for  the  beginner,  but  Sadie  was 
equipped  with  exact  knowledge.  She  gave  us 
a  foundation  training  in  such  matters  that  was 
never  forgotten. 

When  Miss  Ormond  became  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery, she  retired,  and  we  all  missed  her 
greatly.  Dear  old  Susy  Mason  stayed  on  until 
the  close  of  the  Stock  Company,  and  spent  the 
last  of  her  days  at  the  Old  Ladies'  Home  on 
Revere  Street ;  but  she  made  occasional  visits 
to  the  wardrobe,  and  kept  the  garments  care- 
fully brushed  until  they  were  disposed  of. 

172 


CHAPTER  XI 

Famous  Stars 

WHILE  the  dramatic  life  in  Boston  was 
not  entirely  absorbed  by  the  Boston 
Museum,  yet  many  of  the  Museum  actors 
wielded  a  powerful  influence  in  their  day. 
Just  think  of  those  men  and  women  who  inter- 
ested the  Boston  Museum  playgoers  for  year 
after  year,  and  think  what  the  American  stage 
of  to-day  owes  to  some  of  them.  And  they  are 
not  by  any  means  the  only  ones  who  owe  much 
of  their  success  to  the  training  received  at  that 
theater.  There  are  many  others  who  became 
and  are  still  famous ;  E.  H.  Sothern,  Nat 
Goodwin,  William  H.  Crane,  Henry  Dixey, 
Blanche  Ring,  John  Kellerd,  Thomas  W.  Ross, 
Henry  Miller,  —  to  name  a  few. 

Our  E.  H.  Sothern  —  Eddie  Sothern  in  those 

173 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

days  —  was  with  us  for  a  short  time.  He 
came  for  a  good  stock  training.  Many  of  his 
parts  required  more  serious  thinking  than  actual 
speaking.  Those  usually  assigned  to  him  were 
dumb  bandits,  burglars,  and  bold  bad  men. 
Mr.  Sothern  was  the  most  bashful,  diffident 
young  man  in  those  days  I  ever  encountered. 
It  was  embarrassing  to  speak  to  him,  he  blushed 
so  easily.  A  little  more  than  twenty  years  old 
and  very  attractive,  he  won  the  heart  of  more 
than  one  young  maiden  in  the  company. 

One  little  incident  comes  to  my  mind,  which 
happened  in  a  musical  comedy  —  "Pippins"  — 
when  we  were  playing  opposite  parts.  A  "song 
and  dance"  was  allotted  to  our  share  of  the  en- 
tertainment. Neither  of  us  could  sing  or  dance. 
When  the  music  started,  I  don't  know  where 
we  were,  but  I  remember  the  song  was  called 
"Nantasket  down  the  Bay."  We  were  sup- 
posed to  be  lovers  and  very  coquettish.  In 
the  dance  he  flicked  a  beautiful,  gorgeous- 
hued,    silk    handkerchief.     I    was    supposed    to 

174 


FAMOUS   STARS 

capture  it  and  run  merrily  off  the  stage,  pur- 
sued by  my  ardent  admirer  —  a  task  not  so 
easily  performed  as  in  the  present  day  of  Tango 
and  the  good  old  Fox  Trot.  I  know  I  was 
awful  —  I  think  he  was  worse.  Speaking  of 
it  but  a  short  time  ago,  he  laughingly  said, 
"Yes,  indeed,  I  remember  how  awfully  bad 
we  were." 

He  told  me  of  the  horror  of  his  experience 
on  the  night  of  his  first  appearance  in  a  speak- 
ing part.  It  was  at  Abbey's  Park  Theater,  New 
York,  in  1879,  and  I  think  in  his  father's  play, 
"Our  American  Cousin."  His  duty  was  to 
carry  on  a  trunk  and  make  some  sort  of  a  de- 
mand in  a  very  few  words.  He  said  when  his 
cue  came,  he  felt  as  though  he  were  going  to  be 
shot,  and  when  he  made  his  entrance,  his  nerve 
failed  him.  He  stood  there  absolutely  dumb. 
Every  line  had  escaped  his  mind.  His  father 
was  on  the  stage  at  the  time  and  prompted 
him.  Young  Sothern  had  never  realized  that 
actors  spoke  to  each  other  on  the  stage,   and 

175 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

though  his  father's  tones  were  sotto  voce,  he  felt 
disgraced  and  humiliated  before  an  audience 
that  scarcely  realized  his  appearance.  Then  he 
took  up  his  apprenticeship  at  the  Boston 
Museum,  and  no  doubt  that  apprenticeship 
stood  him  in  good  stead. 

"Tommie"  Ross  (Thomas  W.  Ross),  a 
Boston  boy,  got  his  training  at  the  Boston 
Museum,  as  did  also  William  Morris.  Both 
are  to-day  in  the  front  rank  of  stardom. 

John  Kellerd  played  many  speechless  parts 
with  us.  I  recall  vividly  one  he  played  with 
Boucicault  in  "The  Shaughraun."  I  don't  re- 
member the  villain's  name,  —  Riley  or 
Donovan  perhaps.  I  know  that  I  played 
Biddy  Maddigan.  The  action  of  the  play  de- 
manded that  at  the  end  of  the  act  the  peasants 
run  up  an  incline,  waving  all  sorts  of  murderous 
implements  —  shovels,  pokers,  shillalahs,  pitch- 
forks, and  axes  —  all  to  wreak  vengeance  on  the 
villainous  head  of  Harvey  Duff.  Biddy's  duty 
was  to  stand  at  the  highest  point  of  the  incline, 

176 


FAMOUS   STARS 

wielding  an  ax,  but  Riley,  or  Donovan  —  played 
by  Mr.  Kellerd  —  gained  a  higher  point,  and  his 
pitchfork  waved  Biddy's  ax  into  insignificance. 
Jealousy  and  resentment  seethed  within  me, 
and  when  the  curtain  fell  —  well !  He  must 
have  felt  that  I  mistook  him  for  Harvey  Duff. 
Poor  boy !  He  was  very  penitent,  and  soon 
made  me  realize  that  his  enthusiasm  and 
earnestness  rather  than  professional  discourtesy 
was  the  cause.  He  has  since  gained  the  high- 
est point  and  retains  it,  as  shown  by  his  recent 
splendid  success  in  Shakespearean  plays. 

Blanche  Ring  began  with  us,  in  the  ranks. 
Her  opportunities  were  limited  at  the  Museum, 
yet  the  comedy  spirit  of  her  illustrious  grand- 
father, J.  H.  Ring,  was  evident.  She  was 
what  might  be  called  a  laughing  girl  —  brimful 
of  fun  and  sunshine.  Her  success  in  musical 
comedy  came  after  she  left  us,  but  Boston 
claims  Blanche  Ring  as  its  very  own. 

I  must  tell  you  of  the  Boston  Museum 
greenroom  —  a  long  room  with  windows  over- 

177 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

looking  Court  Square.  There  were  long  mirrors 
at  each  end.  Over  the  door  was  framed 
"Trifles  make  perfections."  There  were  seats 
on  either  side  of  the  room,  upholstered  in  green 
rep.  The  walls  were  painted  green,  and  on 
them  hung  the  portrait  of  William  H.  Smith 
(first  stage  manager)  and  E.  F.  Keach  (second 
stage  manager)  and  a  call  board  where  the 
castes  for  the  coming  plays  were  announced. 

We  had  a  fine  library.  Our  books  were  con- 
tributed by  authors,  visiting  stars,  managers, 
and  members  of  the  Boston  Museum  Company. 
The  greenroom,  which  is  now  a  thing  of  the 
past,  was  a  social  living  room,  where  we  spent 
our  time  when  we  were  not  engaged  on  the 
stage.  We  had  a  call-boy  in  those  days  and 
were  called  for  our  different  scenes. 

What  pleasant  memories  that  dear  old  green- 
room recalls !  The  brilliant  wit  and  inter- 
change of  ideas  is  never  to  be  forgotten.  I 
remember  that  Longfellow,  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,   William   Dean   Howells,    and  Thomas 

178 


FAMOUS   STARS 

Russell  Sullivan  contributed  their  books  to 
our  library.  It  was  at  the  Museum  that  I 
met  Longfellow,  and  also  Doctor  Holmes. 
Doctor  Holmes  was  fascinated  with  the  play 
of  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy"  and  praised  very 
highly  Elsie  Leslie  in  the  part. 

A  pleasing  incident  is  pictured  in  my  mind 
in  relation  to  Doctor  Holmes.  My  baby 
daughter  insisted  upon  having  my  pocketbook, 
and  when  I  took  out  its  contents  and  gave  her 
the  empty  purse,  she  gave  way  to  her  disgust 
very  audibly.  Doctor  Holmes,  who  was  pres- 
ent at  the  time,  said,  "Oh,  don't  cry,  little 
girl.  There  are  many  grown-ups  disgusted 
over  empty  pocketbooks."  She  yelled  her  dis- 
approval of  his  interference,  whereupon  he  took 
her  in  his  arms  and  in  his  kindly  way  soothed 
her  into  good  nature.  He  was  delightful  to 
meet,  and  we  missed  him  when  "Little  Lord 
Fauntleroy''  came  to  an  end.  A  story  is  told 
that  when  Doctor  Holmes  started  to  practice 
and    the    first    announcement    was    printed,    he 

179 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

said  he  wished  he  might  add,  "All  small  fevers 
gratefully  received." 

Our  visiting  stars,  as  they  would  come  and 
go,  one  by  one,  gave  to  our  Company  an  at- 
tractiveness and  fresh  interest.  We  were  like 
one  big  family,  we  anticipated  their  coming 
and  missed  them  when  they  were  gone.  We 
all  had  our  favorite  stars,  whom  we  looked 
forward  to  with  much  pleasure. 

Edwin  Booth,  serious,  kind,  and  gentle,  — ■ 
with  what  pleasure  we  looked  forward  to  his 
visits !  He  was  most  patient  and  courteous. 
I  remember  an  incident  that  occurred  when  he 
played  "Richelieu"  with  us.  Several  Har- 
vard students  were  suping  in  the  play,  and 
one  young  man  constantly  watched  Mr.  Booth 
from  the  wings.  After  the  curse  scene  —  his 
most  strenuous  scene  in  the  play  —  Mr.  Booth 
would  come  off  the  stage  exhausted,  and  followed 
by  his  valet  holding  up  his  velvet  robes,  would 
go  to  his  dressing  room  and  sink  into  a  big 
easy   chair,   almost  breathless.     One   night   the 

1 80 


FAMOUS   STARS 

young  man,  who  had  been  watching  him  with 
intense  interest  —  almost  in  a  hypnotic  state 
—  followed  him  closely  to  his  dressing  room, 
and  after  the  door  had  closed,  knocked  boldly 
and  said  to  the  valet:  "May  I  be  permitted  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Booth?" 

Mr.  Booth,  always  courteous,  answered  from 
within:  "Certainly,  young  man.  What  can  I 
do  for  you  ?" 

"Mr.  Booth,  will  you  kindly  tell  me  how  you 
do  that  cough  ?  I  have  watched  for  several 
nights,  and  I  can't  quite  get  it." 

'Well,  young  man,  how  would  you  do  it?': 

The  young  man  proceeded  to  give  his  cough 
with  the  best  possible  effect. 

Mr.  Booth  said:  "Now,  what  can  you  hope 
for,  better  than  that?" 

Another  storv  in  connection  with  Mr.  Booth 
is  told  of  our  old  doorkeeper  Pat.  He  was  an 
inveterate  smoker,  and  the  actors  kept  him 
pretty  well  supplied  with  cigars.  He  would 
invariably   make   some    remark   to   remind   the 

181 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

actor  that  a  cigar  would  be  acceptable,  such  as 
"By  George,  you  smoke  fine  cigars,"  or  "A 
whiff  of  your  cigar  is  as  good  as  a  smoke," 
which  would  invariably  bring  forth  the  desired 
article.  One  day  he  said  to  Mr.  Booth,  in  a 
very  reminiscent  way:  "Ah,  Mr.  Booth,  I 
knew  your  father  very  well.  I  remember,  too, 
that  he  never  passed  this  door  without  giving 
me  a  good,  big  cigar."  Mr.  Booth  replied  in 
his  quiet  way:  "My  dear  man,  it  must  have 
been  a  very  bad  one." 

I  was  very  young  when  I  was  cast  to  play 
the  Duchess  of  York,  his  mother,  in  "Richard 
III."  I  was  inexperienced,  and  in  consequence, 
very  nervous.  I  remember  in  that  play  I  had 
my  first  real  stage  fright.  Stage  fright  is  like 
nothing  else  in  the  world.  You  are  perfectly 
sane,  when  all  of  a  sudden,  as  if  seized  with  an 
electric  shock,  your  knees  and  toes  wriggle 
with  no  power  of  control,  and  your  mind  be- 
comes a  blank.  But  I  was  fortunate  in  being 
able  to  overcome  it.     Mr.   Booth  was  patient 

182 


FAMOUS   STARS 

and  gentle,  and  each  night,  while  waiting  for 
our  cue  to  go  on  the  stage,  he  would  say : 
"Courage,  little  mother!  Don't  forget  to  curse 
your  cruel  son  loud  and  bitterly  to-night!" 

I  remember,  too,  how  near  I  came  to  ruining 
a  scene  in  "The  Fool's  Revenge."  I  played 
the  Duenna,  and  the  first  night  I  made  a  wrong 
exit.  Crossing  at  the  back  of  the  stage  and 
passing  a  window  that  was  supposed  to  be  high 
up,  to  the  audience  I  appeared  to  be  walking 
over  the  roofs  of  houses,  chimneys,  and  tree 
tops.  Of  course  the  audience  enjoyed  it  very 
much.  Poor  Mr.  Booth  was  on  the  stage  at 
the  time  playing  a  serious  scene.  'Tis  need- 
less to  say  I  kept  out  of  his  way  that  evening. 
I  did  not  apologize  then ;  I  thought  it  wiser 
not  to. 

He  was  very  fond  of  children.  My  little 
girl  interested  him  very  much,  and  she  was 
very  fond  of  him.  She  called  him  "Mr.  Boot." 
That  amused  him  so  much  that  he'd  try  in 
every  possible  way  to  get  her  to  say  it,   and 

183 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

would  play  hide  and  seek  with  her  and  let  her 
find  him,  while  she  shrieked  :  "Oh,  Mr.  Boot !" 
He  would  often  hold  her  in  his  lap  while  he 
directed  the  rehearsal. 

I  can't  help  thinking  how  much  simpler  the 
lives  of  actors  were  in  those  days.  Mr.  Booth's 
life  was  a  noble  example,  and  as  our  critic,  Mr. 
H.  A.  Clapp,  has  said:  "The  one  appalling  dis- 
aster and  sorrow  of  his  experience  he  bore  with 
such  patience  and  magnanimity  as  presently  re- 
conquered the  favor  of  a  shaken  and  bewildered 
nation.  The  soul  of  Edwin  Booth — like  the 
Art  of  Edwin  Booth  —  was  of  the  truly  heroic 
type."  I  am  very  grateful  to  have  known  him. 
I  feel  that  Edwin  Booth  is  still  unapproached 
as   a  tragedian. 

On  the  other  hand  stands  Dion  Boucicault. 
How  we  dreaded  his  return !  He  was  a 
martinet,  but  as  stage  director  he  was  invalu- 
able. He  had  a  way  of  changing  his  ideas  at 
each  rehearsal,  and  while  they  were  always 
good,    they   were   somewhat   perplexing.     I    re- 

184 


FAMOUS   STARS 

member  once,  when  uncertain  just  where  to 
go  on  the  stage,  I  went  where  he  had  planned 
an  imaginary  table.  He  shrieked:  "Are  you 
going  to  walk  over  that  table?" 

I  was  confused  and  stepped  aside  quickly. 

"Here,  here,  don't  run  about  like  a  hen  with 
its  head  cut  off  !" 

It  was  his  delight  to  get  the  women  of  the 
company  confused  to  the  extent  of  shedding 
bitter  tears.  It  is  told  of  him  that  a  member 
of  his  company  who  was  painstaking,  but 
whom  Mr.  Boucicault  had  selected  as  a  special 
target  to  shoot  at,  ventured  to  say,  when  the 
director  reprimanded  him  for  some  business  on 
the  stage:  "Mr.  Boucicault,  I  have  written  the 
directions  as  you  gave  them  to  me  yesterday." 

"Ah!"  said  Boucicault  in  his  Dublin  brogue 
and  sweetest  manner,  "yesterday,  certainly, 
my  boy,  I  told  you  to  do  it  that  way,  but 
the  world  is  just  twenty-four  hours  older,  and 
we  have  advanced  that  much ;  so  do  it  this 
way  to-day." 

185 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

I'll  never  forget  how  scared  I  was  the  first 
time  Boucicault  came  to  the  theater.  I  was 
to  play  Katty  Walsh  in  "Arrah-na-Pogue." 
She  dances  an  Irish  breakdown  on  a  barn 
floor.  I  had  a  partner  who  was  a  fine  dancer, 
but  I  had  never  done  anything  of  the  kind,  and 
didn't  have  the  courage  to  say  I  couldn't  do  it. 
Anyway,  when  the  music  struck  up,  I  jumped 
on  the  board,  and  with  my  hands  on  my  hips 
danced  as  naturally  as  you  please.  Bouci- 
cault was  delighted  and  told  my  partner  to 
follow  me. 

Some  one  said  to  him  once :  "  Mr.  Bouci- 
cault, you  have  written  many  plays.  Which 
do  you  consider  your  best  play?" 

"Well,  my  first  best  play  was  '  London  Assur- 
ance,' and  the  next  best  one  is  the  one  I  am  now 
writing." 

Mr.  Boucicault  was  a  brilliant  conversa- 
tionalist and  a  charming  host,  often  serving 
tea  in  his  dressing  room  to  a  favored  few.  He 
traveled    with    a    tea-basket,    provided   with    a 

186 


2 
u 

H 


o 


'  >\  f. 


2C 


-a 


3 

o 

3 

o 

3 
O 


FAMOUS   STARS 

choice  brand  of  tea.  He  was  a  curious  type 
of  man  to  look  upon,  with  glittering  eyes, 
scrubby  moustache,  and  a  fringe  of  hair  that 
was  dyed  very  black.  He  always  wore  his 
coat  collar  turned  up  and  seemed  cold,  bilious, 
and  sarcastic.  The  most  prolific  writer  of  his 
time,  he  is  said  to  be  the  author  of  more  than 
three  hundred  and  fifty  plays  —  original  ad- 
aptations and  translations.  He  made  a  great 
deal  of  money,  but  died  a  poor  man. 

Richard  Mansfield  made  his  first  appearance 
as  a  star  before  a  Boston  public  at  the  Boston 
Museum  in  1885,  as  Baron  Chevrial  in  "Pari- 
sian Romance",  supported  by  the  Museum 
Stock  Company.  The  role  of  Baron  Chevrial 
was  made  possible  for  him  by  the  declination 
of  J.  H.  Stoddart  to  play  the  part  and  gained 
for  him  almost  instantaneous  recognition  of  his 
ability. 

An  incident  that  is  impressed  on  my  mind 
occurred  the  second  night  of  the  play.  Miss 
Annie  Clarke,  who  played  the  part  of  Madame 

187 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

D'Targy,  had  been  ill,  but  with  the  usual  per- 
sistence of  the  player  who  can  go  on  the  stage 
and  play  while  suffering  intense  physical  agony, 
she  got  through  the  first  performance ;  but  the 
next  night,  after  her  arrival  at  the  theater,  she 
was  obliged  to  succumb. 

I  was  regarded  as  a  quick  study  and  was 
often  called  upon  to  play  parts  at  short 
notice.  That  night  on  my  way  to  the  theater 
with  my  husband  (we  were  playing  small 
parts  and  our  duties  did  not  begin  till  the 
second  act),  we  noticed  one  of  the  boys  of 
the  Company  rushing  toward  us,  saying  ex- 
citedly: "Oh,  Miss  Ryan,  they  are  waiting  for 
you  at  the  theater.  Miss  Clarke  is  ill,  and  you 
are  to  play  the  part."  It  happened  to  be  April 
ist,  so  I  said,  "Oh,  yes,  I  know.  April  Fool 
joke,"  but  my  ever  conscientious  husband  in- 
sisted that  we  make  all  possible  haste.  The 
German  doorkeeper  greeted  us  with :  "Vat 
you  do  ?  Vat  you  do  ?  Don't  you  know  dot 
you    play   Miss    Clarke    to-night?"    and    sure 

188 


FAMOUS   STARS 

enough,    there    were    Mr.    Seymour    and    Mr. 
Mansfield  anxiously  awaiting  me. 

There  was  no  time  for  study.  I  was  rushed 
into  Miss  Clarke's  dressing  room  and  the  manu- 
script thrust  into  my  hand.  The  adjustment  of 
a  costume  was  a  problem.  Dear  Annie  Clarke 
was  tall  and  stately  —  I  quite  the  reverse. 
However,  the  dressing  maid,  after  much  in- 
genuity, accomplished  the  deed.  With  a  gray 
wig  and  beautiful  lace  draperies  that  covered  a 
multitude  of  pins,  I  looked  a  perfect  lady.  The 
part !  Oh,  my !  Oh,  my !  Longer  than  the 
moral  law.  Never  had  I  encountered  so  many 
French  names  or  words  as  were  in  the  lines  of 
Madame  D'Targy.  I  remember  a  very  affect- 
ing scene  with  my  son,  Henry  D'Targy,  played 
by  John  Mason.  He  embraced  me  very 
tenderly,  while  I  wept  on  his  manly  chest, 
pleading  with  him  to  save  the  family  honor,  — 
all  the  while  struggling  to  read  the  lines  of  the 
part  over  his  shoulder.  The  audience  ap- 
plauded me,  and  encouragement  always  meant 

189 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

so  much  to  me  that  after  my  first  exit,  I 
"winged"  the  part;  to  "wing"  a  part  in  stage 
parlance  means  studying  the  lines  between  the 
scenes  and  acts. 

After  the  play,  Mr.  Mansfield  congratulated 
me  on  getting  through  so  well.  He  said  Miss 
Clarke  would  not  be  able  to  play  for  several 
days  and  advised  me  to  be  ready  to  play  the 
rest  of  the  week.  The  next  day  brought  forth 
a  matinee,  so  I  studied  long  into  the  night  and 
prepared  a  fitting  costume.  I  felt  that  my 
opportunity  had  come,  but,  alas  !  the  path  of 
the  understudy  is  not  bordered  with  roses, 
and  I  found  on  my  arrival  that  Miss  Clarke 
had  recovered  sufficiently  to  play.  I  am  con- 
scious even  now  how  keenly  I  felt  the  in- 
sincerity of  my  solicitous  inquiries  and  tender 
anxiety. 

"  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde "  was  produced 
at  the  Museum  for  the  first  time  on  any  stage, 
May  10,  1887.  I  doubt  if  any  actor  drew  a 
more  brilliant  and  representative  audience.     It 

190 


FAMOUS   STARS 

was  a  veritable  Boston  Museum  first  night. 
What  a  wonderful  performance  Mansfield  gave 
of  "  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde  "  !  No  one  who 
was  present  will  ever  forget  the  awful  moment 
when  Air.  Hyde's  malignant,  hideous  face  ap- 
peared at  the  window,  and  another  scene  when 
Doctor  Jekyll  appears  at  the  door,  holding  a 
light  over  his  head,  directly  after  Mr.  Hyde 
leaves  Mr.  Utterson  in  the  dark  street.  I 
played  Mrs.  Lanyan  in  the  play,  and  while  I 
was  familiar  with  the  details  of  the  illusion,  yet 
I  was  horrified  at  every  performance. 

My  first  really  trying  experience  with  Mr. 
Mansfield  was  in  his  play  "Monsieur",  pro- 
duced at  the  Museum  for  the  first  time.  He 
had  been  rehearsing  it  for  weeks  and  was  to 
play  a  supplementary  season  with  his  own 
company  at  the  Boston  Museum  at  the  close 
of  our  regular  season.  On  the  Saturday  before 
the  Monday  night  opening,  Mrs.  Germon,  who 
was  to  play,  folded  her  tent  like  the  Arab  and 
quietly  stole  away,  leaving  Mr.  Mansfield  in  the 

191 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

lurch.     She  left  Boston,  bag  and  baggage,  and 
all  efforts  to  locate  her  failed. 

As  our  season  was  closed,  I  was  available,  so 
he  asked  me  to  play  the  part.  I  didn't  enjoy 
the  idea  of  appearing  at  such  a  great  disadvan- 
tage. (It  was  then  late  on  Saturday  night.) 
However,  after  considerable  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  salary  —  the  usual  haggling — I  gained  my 
point  and  accepted  the  position.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  difficulties  I  encountered.  I  sat  up 
all  night  studying  and  rehearsed  the  next 
morning.  I  was  dazed.  Ordinarily  it  was  not 
difficult  to  study  a  part  at  short  notice,  but  on 
that  occasion  I  could  not  retain  a  sentence.  I 
knew  the  lines  at  home,  but  when  I  rehearsed 
with  Mansfield,  every  word  left  me.  I  was 
truly  scared.  The  same  evening  we  had  an- 
other rehearsal  at  the  Hotel  Thorndike,  where 
Mr.  Mansfield  always  stopped  in  those  days, 
as  no  rehearsals  or  performances  were  permitted 
at  the  Museum  on  Sundays.  Mr.  Mansfield 
had  arranged  a  supper  for  the  company  after 

192 


FAMOUS   STARS 

the  rehearsal,  but,  alas  !  I  hurried  home  to  re- 
sume my  studying.  The  supper  party  was  a  gay 
one.  Mansfield  was  a  genial  host  and  spared  no 
personal  exertion  to  entertain  his  guests. 

The  next  and  last  rehearsal  on  Monday 
found  me  almost  as  hopeless.  Dressmakers 
were  on  hand  to  make  my  costumes  under 
Mr.  Mansfield's  direction,  the  smallest  detail 
being  of  the  greatest  importance,  but  I  could 
not  remember  the  role.  Not  until  the  rise 
of  the  curtain  for  the  first  act  did  I  recover 
from  my  nervousness.  I  was  discovered  and 
spoke  the  first  line,  and  never  before  or  since 
have  I  been  so  perfectly  at  ease.  I  positively 
enjoyed  playing  the  part.  I  think  deadly  fear 
of  the  author  had  taken  possession  of  me. 

The  play  was  a  mild  success  and  remained 
in  his  repertoire  for  some  time.  I  went  to  New 
York  and  played  during  the  summer,  and  he 
offered  me  an  engagement  to  go  abroad  with 
him.  But,  fortunately  for  me,  I  was  already 
engaged  at  the  Museum. 

193 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

I  had  many  amusing  experiences  with  Mr. 
Mansfield,  some  pleasant  and  some  unpleasant, 
but  I  never  knew  him  to  be  resentful  or  mali- 
cious. He  was  continually  discharging  some 
member  of  his  company  and  engaging  him  over 
again.  He  suffered  a  great  deal  from  acute 
indigestion  and  during  these  periods  was  more 
easily  annoyed.  The  slightest  noise  would  send 
him  off  in  a  tantrum.  I  remember  that  while 
playing  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater,  the 
portable  stage  was  somewhat  squeaky  and 
rickety,  causing  him  much  annoyance  at  times. 
In  the  play  of  "Prince  Karl"  I  had  to  run  on 
into  his  arms,  and  the  stage  fairly  lurched.  He 
was  furious  and  rushed  out  of  the  theater,  and 
the  rehearsal  was  dismissed,  of  course.  I  was 
humiliated  because  my  avoirdupois  was  the 
real  cause.  That  night,  when  I  arrived  at  the 
theater,  I  found  a  box  of  bonbons  on  my  dress- 
ing table,  with  a  card  on  which  was  written 
"Forgive  and  be  forgiven,"  signed  "Mans- 
field." 

194 


FAMOUS   STARS 

Madame  Janauschek,  when  she  played  at 
the  Museum,  impressed  me  in  a  wonderful  way. 
She  was  very  powerful  and  magnetic.  Those 
lustrous,  speaking  eyes,  that  reflected  every 
emotion  of  the  character  she  portrayed,  fas- 
cinated me.  I  shall  never  forget  the  wonderful 
expression  on  that  Slavonic  face  with  its  high 
cheekbones,  low  brow,  and  firm  jaw.  A 
Bohemian  woman  of  strange  temperament  and 
fire,  her  superb  art   held   her  audience  at   will. 

I  have  never  witnessed  a  more  thrilling  per- 
formance than  her  acting  of  the  dual  roles, 
Ladv  Dedlock  and  Hortense  in  "Bleak  House", 
in  which  I  played  her  daughter.  She  was  very 
nervous  on  that  opening  night.  In  one  of  the 
scenes  with  her,  I  was  kneeling  at  her  feet, 
weeping  bitterly,  with  my  head  in  her  lap.  I 
remember  vividly  that  while  soothing  and 
stroking  my  head,  she  encountered  a  hairpin, 
whereupon  she  vigorously  lacerated  my  scalp. 
It   remained   a   tender  memory  for  some   time. 

1   was  so  fascinated  by  her  acting,  however, 

195 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

that  I  felt  I  must  show  my  appreciation,  so 
the  next  morning  after  the  hairpin  episode,  I 
went  to  the  florist's  shop  and  sent  her  some 
roses,  with  card  inclosed,  "From  an  adoring 
daughter  who  is  willing  to  suffer  at  your  feet." 
That  night  I  hoped  for  some  recognition,  but 
received  not  a  sign.  Possibly  there  was  some 
mistake.  At  any  rate,  I  carefully  removed  my 
hairpins.  Madame  Janauschek  loved  to  visit 
cemeteries.  She  anticipated  these  visits  with 
great  pleasure,  and  said  she  had  visited  all  the 
noted  graveyards  in  Europe  and  Egypt. 

It  is  said  of  her  that  in  her  most  needful 
times  she  was  offered  an  engagement  in  vaude- 
ville at  a  remunerative  salary.  She  spurned 
it  with  lofty  scorn  and  said  :  "  I  have  been  a 
king's  favorite  tragedienne ;  I  will  never  be  a 
top-liner  in  a  variety  show."  Poor  dear !  She 
escaped  poverty  only  through  the  humanity  of 
her  friends  and  the  theatrical  profession. 

Modjeska  was  delightful,  with  a  charming 
personality !     Her    first    appearance    in    Boston 

196 


FAMOUS   STARS 

was  at  the  Museum  in  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur." 
She  was  very  nervous  on  the  opening  night  and 
in  making  her  entrance  fell  over  the  doorsill, 
but  the  audience  greeted  her  so  kindly,  that 
she  soon  recovered  and  gave  a  brilliant  per- 
formance.    Her  engagement  was  most  successful. 

We  looked  forward  to  an  engagement  with 
Fanny  Davenport  with  pleasure.  She  was 
wholesome  and  fine,  an  actress  of  remarkable 
versatility.  I  adored  her  as  Beatrice  in  "Much 
Ado  About  Nothing ",  in  which  her  real  per- 
sonality shone  forth.  Her  great  successes  were 
in     'Fedora",     'La  Tosca",   and   "Gismonda." 

Lester  Wallack  was  a  breezy,  romantic  per- 
sonality off  the  stage  as  well  as  on,  and  we 
hailed  his  coming  with  delight.  He  directed 
his  own  plays,  and  while  outlining  the  business 
for  the  players,  he  would  act  every  part  in  the 
play.  The  young  woman  who  couldn't  play 
the  part  of  Rosa  Leigh  in  "  Rosedale  "  under  his 
direction  was  indeed  devoid  of  dramatic  sense. 
I  never  knew  him  to  lose  his  temper ;    he  was 

197 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

courteous  and  encouraging  to  every  member  of 
the  Company.  We  needed  encouragement  too, 
as  we  were  often  limited  as  to  time,  being 
obliged  to  put  on  plays  with  but  one  or  two 
rehearsals  with  our  stars. 

Speaking  of  Lester  Wallack  recalls  Harry 
Montague,  an  adored  matinee  idol  of  that  day. 
He  was  splendid  in  the  "Romance  of  a  Poor 
Young  Man ",  and  his  starring  engagement 
with  us  in  1876  was  a  brilliant  success.  We 
were  grieved  to  hear  of  his  death  in  1878,  the 
season  we  expected  him  for  a  return  engage- 
ment. He  died  at  the  Palace  Hotel  in  San 
Francisco  after  a  short  illness  that  was  supposed 
to  be  merely  a  cold.  It  is  sad  to  think  of  the 
handsome  youth,  adored  in  life,  dead  among 
strangers,  without  a  relative  near.  Theatrical 
friends  —  ever  loyal  —  attended  to  every  detail 
as  a  labor  of  love. 

Lawrence  Barrett  played  occasional  star 
engagements  with  us.  I  was  very  much  im- 
pressed by  his  acting  in  "The  Man  o'  Airlie", 

198 


FAMOUS   STARS 

in  which  he  played  the  part  of  Jamie  Harebell, 
with  a  rare  tenderness  not  shown  in  his  other 
characters.  One  scene  comes  to  my  mind 
clearly.  The  peasants  are  singing  outside  and 
by  the  window  stands  Jamie  Harebell  —  the 
kindliest  face  I  ever  saw  —  with  tears  streaming 
down  his  cheeks,  his  whole  frame  convulsed 
with  real  feeling  as  he  listens  to  the  peasants 
singing  his  praises  : 

"Oh  there  upon  yon  heather  hill, 
Where  footfalls  come  but  rarely, 
There  dwells  a  man  they  think  of  still, 
There  dwells  the  Man  o'  Airlie. 

"He  wore  a  coat  of  Hodden  Gray, 
His  hands  were  hard  with  labor, 
But  still  he  had  a  homely  way 
Of  standing  by  his  neighbor." 

I  was  a  peasant,  and  each  night  I  sang  in 
the  chorus  of  that  play,  my  nose  was  red  with 
weeping,  and  my  eyes  besmeared  with  cosmetic. 
Mr.  Barrett  was  regarded  as  being  unapproach- 
able, but  I  always  found  him  courteous.  He 
was   somewhat   exclusive,    but   he   was   a    close 

199 


LI 


CI 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

student,  entirely  engrossed  in  his  art  — an 
actor  who  had  to  fight  for  every  scrap  of  his 
existence  against  every  hardship  and  handicap 
imaginable.  He  is  enthroned  in  my  mind  as  a 
devoted  husband  and  father,  an  intellectual 
actor,  and  a  kind  gentleman. 

Sol  Smith  Russell  was  a  very  agreeable  star. 
Edgewood  Folks",  "Peaceful  Valley",  and 
A  Poor  Relation"  came  to  us  usually  at  the 
close  of  our  regular  dramatic  season  and  served 
as  a  mild  spring  tonic  —  effervescent  and  re- 
freshing. Mr.  Russell  was  more  often  taken 
for  a  clergyman  than  an  actor.  My  husband 
used  to  tell  an  amusing  story  of  an  incident 
that  happened  when  we  were  living  at  Martha's 
Vineyard.  Mr.  Russell  came  down  to  spend 
Saturday  and  Sunday  with  us,  and  incidentally 
to  get  in  a  fishing  trip  with  my  husband.  Early 
on  the  Sabbath  morning  they  both  started  off, 
equipped  for  the  trip.  The  natives  some- 
how regarded  Mr.  Russell  as  a  minister,  and 
were  very  much   shocked. 

200 


FAMOUS   STARS 

One  of  the  native  fishermen  who  had  charge  of 
the  fishing  trip  learned  that  they  were  actors,  and 
after  watching  Mr.  Russell  for  some  time  curi- 
ously, said:  "Say,  are  you  one  of  them  fellows 
that  does  jimcracks  on  the  stage  ?  I  wish  you 
would  come  up  to  the  house  sometime  and  kickup 
some  of  your  kididoes  for  us.  Mother'd  like 
it  fust  rate."  (Mr.  Russell  introduced  these 
lines  in  the  play  of  "Peaceful  Valley",  and  they 
never  failed  to  please  the  audience.)  When  the 
men  got  on  shore  (the  trip  had  been  somewhat 
squally),  they  were  wet  and  chilled,  but  had 
provided  themselves  with  a  stimulant  and 
offered  the  old  fellow  a  drink.  The  old  man 
hesitated  for  a  moment  and  said,  "  If  you 
fellows  will  wait  till  I  go  up  to  the  house  and 
get  a  vial,  I'll  take  some.  It'll  come  handy  to 
have  in  the  house  in  the  winter  time." 

Once,  while  waiting  at  the  station  with  Mr. 
Russell,  an  old  gentleman  who  had  been  watch- 
ing him  closely,  suddenly  rushed  forward,  and 
shaking    Mr.    Russell's    hand    vigorously,    said, 

201 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

"By  George,  I'd  like  to  see  you  play  to-night, 
but  unfortunately  I  saw  you  the  last  time  you 
were  here." 

The  star  or  successful  actor  is  regarded  a 
public  servant  off  the  stage  as  well  as  behind 
the  footlights.  The  romance  and  glamour  which 
surround  him  never  fail  to  interest  the  outsider, 
who  feels  a  sort  of  privilege  to  intrude  upon  his 
privacy.  Subjects  of  the  most  intimate  nature 
are  advanced  without  a  qualm.  On  one  of  our 
traveling  tours,  I  heard  a  man  say  to  Mr. 
Warren,  "Why  in  the  world,  Warren,  do  they 
send  a  man  of  your  age  about  the  country  ? 
Can't  they  see  that  they  are  killing  the  goose 
that  is  laying  the  golden  egg?"  Dear  Mr. 
Warren,  who  never  lost  the  spirit  of  youth,  was 
ready  with  a  reply.  I  cannot  remember  ac- 
curately just  what  he  said,  but  I  am  quite  sure 
the  man  was  subdued. 

Age  is  the  usual  topic  introduced,  generally 
somewhat  in  this  fashion.  "Well,  well,  is  it 
possible   that   you're   still    going  ?     How   much 

202 


FAMOUS   STARS 

longer  do  you  expect  to  act  ?  I  declare,  you 
don't  look  a  day  older  than  I  do.  Do  you 
know  my  first  recollection  of  a  theater  was 
when  I  was  taken  there  by  my  nurse  on  a  half- 
price  ticket  to  see  a  play  that  you  were  in. 
Now,  what  was  the  name  of  that  play  ?  I 
wonder  if  you  remember.  I  know  somebody 
jumped  out  of  the  window.  Goodness  me ! 
It  was  years  and  years  ago."  After  regarding 
your  chatty  friend,  you  feel  that  nature  indeed 
has  been  kind  to  you. 

Mr.  Warren  intensely  disliked  publicity.  I 
shall  never  forget  his  embarrassment  on  an 
occasion  when  he  invited  a  young  lady  and 
myself  to  hear  the  phonograph  at  Horticultural 
Hall  when  it  was  first  introduced  to  Boston 
audiences.  The  young  lady  was  very  pretty 
and  popular,  and  always  attracted  attention. 
She  lingered  on  her  way  out  in  the  corridor  to 
draw  on  her  glove.  Quite  a  number  of  people 
gathered  about  and  insisted  on  shaking  hands 
with  Mr.  Warren,  and  it  was  some  time  before 

203 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

he    could    disengage   himself   from    the   curious 
crowd. 

Stars  and  actors  of  the  earlier  days  usually 
avoided  publicity,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  the 
old  Boston  Museum,  its  plays  and  players, 
formed  a  large  part  of  the  conversation  over 
the  teacups  of  Boston  for  more  than  half  a 
century. 


204 


CHAPTER  XII 

The  Younger  Generation 

THE  decade  between  1873  and  1883  saw 
the  Boston  Museum  at  the  zenith  of  its 
greatness.  Never  before  or  since  has  such  a 
coterie  of  players  graced  an  American  stage. 
Here  were  produced  the  works  of  Shakespeare, 
Sheridan,  Goldsmith,  Bulwer-Lytton,  Taylor, 
Robertson,  the  Morton  farces,  and  the  Gilbert 
and  Sullivan  operas.  These  plays  demanded 
actors  possessing  dramatic  fire,  imagination, 
and  intelligence ;  actors  who  could  play  in 
tragedy  and  farce  in  the  same  night ;  actors 
capable  of  representing  historic  traits,  elegant 
manners,  with  pure  diction  and  well-carried 
costumes.  All  this  was  the  result  of  a 
broad  experience  and  a  sound,  fundamental 
training. 

205 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

The  last  decade  from  1883  to  1893  brought 
in  a  younger  generation  of  players :  Viola 
Allen,  Eben  Plympton,  Edgar  L.  Davenport, 
H.  M.  Pitt,  Fanny  Addison  Pitt,  W.  F.  Owen, 
George  C.  Boniface,  Frazer  Coulter,  Leslie 
Allen,  Alfred  Hudson,  J.  B.  Booth,  C.  P. 
Flockton,  Edwin  Arden,  E.  H.  Vanderfelt, 
Evelyn  Campbell,  Blanche  Thompson,  Maida 
Craigin,  Forrest  Robinson,  Isabelle  Evesson, 
E.  A.  MacDowell,  Henry  Miller  and  his 
wife,  Fanny  Reeves,  Charles  Dade,  Arthur 
Forrest,  Thomas  L.  Coleman,  John  Kellerd, 
Edwin  Holt,  Arthur  Falkland,  Blanche  Ring, 
Louise  Jordan,  Russ  Whytal,  Sol  Smith  Russell, 
Frank  Burbeck,  Charles  Abbe,  Lillian  Hadley, 
George  Purdy,  Helen  Dayne,  Grace  Atwell, 
Fred  Sydney,  William  Melbourne  (Melbourne 
MacDowell),  Gertrude  Blanchard,  Willis 
Grainger,  Franklin  Hallett,  Howard  Gould, 
Sidney  Booth,  Mary  Hampton,  Marie  Burress, 
Robert  Edeson,  Edward  E.  Rose,  Edward 
Wade,   Ethelyn  Friend,  Ida  Glenn,  Ella  Hugh 

206 


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THE   YOUNGER   GENERATION 

Wood,  Kenneth  Lee,  Nat  Hartwig,  Percy 
Bowles,  Harry  Courtney,  Alice  Livingston, 
Morton  Payne,  and  Mary  Hebron. 

Mr.  Seymour's  coming  in  1879  brought  about 
some  advanced  changes  in  stage  management. 
His  methods  represented  the  best  of  the  old 
and  the  best  of  the  new.  In  his  hands,  the 
claims  of  traditions  were  not  neglected,  nor 
was  the  past  allowed  to  obscure  modern 
methods.  He  realized  the  importance  of  his 
position,  and  was  faithful  to  his  duties.  I  re- 
call very  clearly  Mr.  Seymour's  first  rehearsal. 
He  was  youthful  in  appearance  for  the  position 
of  stage  manager.  His  predecessors  were  older 
men.  I  think  he  was  about  twenty-five  years 
old  and  very  good-looking,  and  I  remember  that 
the  young  ladies  of  the  Company  were  in  a 
nutter  of  delight,  and  many  little  tricks  were 
practiced  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  young 
stage  manager,  one  girl  even  going  so  far  as  to 
feign  a  sprained  ankle.  He  was  extremely  po- 
lite, but  hardly  as  sympathetic  as  she  hoped. 

207 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

A    real   feminine   outbreak    occurred    in    the 
play    of    the    "Two    Orphans."     We   were    re- 
hearsing the  Convent  Scene,  and  many  young 
girls  were  on,    as    there    are    numberless    small 
parts.     Sadie    Martinot,    who    was    rehearsing 
the   part   of    Marianne,     started    the    girls    to 
giggling,    and    we    became    hysterical.     It    was 
a  trying  situation  for  the  young  stage  manager. 
At  first  he  was  nice ;    then,  failing  to   subdue 
us,   he   became    very    severe.     That    caused   us 
to    be    all    the    more    hysterical.      Finally    he 
was  obliged   to   dismiss  the   rehearsal  until  we 
regained  our  composure,   but  all  through  that 
morning    we    were    difficult    to    manage ;     any- 
thing  and   everything   seemed   ludicrous.     One 
of   the    girls    reprimanded    us,    saying,    "It's    a 
shame  to  make  it  so  hard  for  the   new  stage 
manager."     That  thoughtful   girl  happened   to 
be   Miss    May    Davenport,    who    became    Mrs. 
Seymour  later. 

I  was  reckoned  with  the  good  for  promptness 
and    punctuality,    but    helpless    in    restraining 

208 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

mirth  on  the  stage.  One  incident  is  brought 
to  my  mind  in  connection  with  Mr.  Seymour. 
It  was  in  the  play  of  "Topsy  Turvy  ",  written 
by  Dion  Boucicault.  After  being  played  at  the 
Museum  with  some  success,  it  was  sent  on  tour 
and  we  opened  in  Portland,  Maine.  Mr.  John 
Mason,  who  played  the  leading  part,  through 
some  mistake  missed  the  train  from  Boston, 
and  Mr.  Seymour  went  on  in  his  place  at  short 
notice.  He  was  obliged  to  wear  a  negligee  cos- 
tume belonging  to  Mr.  Mason,  which  was  ex- 
tremely ill-fitting.  Mr.  Seymour  was  slight  and 
dapper  in  those  days,  and  Mason  was  big  and 
broad-shouldered.  I  was  playing  the  part  of  a 
gushing  widow  infatuated  with  the  young  man 
(played  by  Seymour),  and  when  I  came  on  the 
stage  and  saw  my  new  lover  in  an  ill-fitting 
fatigue  jacket  with  sleeves  much  too  long  and 
trousers  to  match,  I  couldn't  speak  with  laughter. 
I  could  only  sec  our  fastidious  stage  manager 
in  ill-fitting  clothes.  Fortunately  we  were  play- 
ing a  broad  comedy  scene,  and  my  mirth  could 

209 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

be  disguised  in  the  lines  of  the  play.  I  never 
explained  to  Mr.  Seymour,  but  I  remember 
his  manner  was  sympathetic,  and  I  presume 
he  regarded  my  laughter  as  a  feminine  weakness. 

Another  trying  situation  occurred  in  a  scene 
with  Mr.  Alfred  Hudson  in  the  play  of  "  Nerves  " 
in  which  he  played  my  husband.  While  re- 
hearsing the  part  one  day,  he  said,  "  I  am  in 
a  dilemma  about  a  hat  for  this  character." 
George  Purdy,  our  orchestra  leader,  replied,  "  I 
can  lend  you  a  hat,  Al ",  and  on  the  evening 
Mr.  Hudson  appeared  with  the  hat  which  was 
somewhat  small  but  not  noticeably  so  to  an 
audience.  He  had  ridiculed  his  appearance  by 
putting  it  on  in  various  ways  and  striking 
comic  attitudes  for  our  amusement  in  the 
greenroom.  When  he  appeared  before  me  as  a 
serious,  dignified  husband,  I  was  convulsed,  and 
nothing  but  the  good  fortune  that  I  was  playing 
a  nervous,  hysterical  wife  saved  the  situation. 

I  was  heartily  ashamed  of  myself,  for  there 
existed    a    scrupulous     regard    for    professional 

210 


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THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

etiquette  in  those  days.  The  most  serious 
breach  was  to  show  an  actor  up  on  the  stage 
or  ridicule  any  mishap  before  an  audience.  It 
was  a  rather  trying  situation  though,  when  an 
eyebrow  became  dislodged  or  a  pretty  nose 
distorted,  or  your  lover  had  lost  part  of  his 
beautiful  moustache  in  an  ardent  love-making 
scene,  to  remain  unswerved,  even  in  the  good 
old  days. 

The  season  of  1879  was  indeed  an  interesting 
one  because  of  the  other  newcomers,  —  John 
Mason,  May  Davenport,  Mary  Shaw,  and 
Alice  Carle. 

Miss  May  Davenport  comes  to  my  mind  as 
a  charming  type  of  young  womanhood,  sweet, 
pretty,  and  demure.  I  remember  she  wore 
gray  gowns  and  violets.  She  married  our 
attractive  young  stage  manager  in  January  of 
1882. 

Mary  Shaw  made  her  debut  about  the  same 
time.  Her  career  was  brilliant  from  the  start. 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  eulogize  her;    her  work 

211 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

on  the  stage  has  already  shown  her  worth  in 
her  chosen  profession.  Her  sister  Peggy 
(Evelyn  Shaw)  was  also  with  us  for  a  short 
time.  Dear  Peggy,  always  brimful  of  humor 
and  wit !     She  left  us  all  too  soon. 

Alice  Carle  —  a  sweet  singer  from  Maine  — 
brings  up  pleasant  memories.  I  am  not  clear 
as  to  her  acting  ability,  but  I  am  certain  that 
she  had  an  unusual  contralto  voice  and  made  a 
marked  success  in  the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan 
operas.  She  was  a  girl  of  sunny  disposition 
and  wholesome  personality. 

John  Mason  first  appeared  with  us  as  Care- 
less in  "The  School  for  Scandal",  and  made  a 
good  impression  from  the  start.  He  had  a 
pleasing  baritone  voice,  and  his  singing  of  the 
toast  song  was  heartily  applauded.  He  had 
studied  singing  in  Italy,  and  just  after  a 
summer  vacation  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  "Hand- 
some Jack"  —  as  he  was  called  in  those  days  — 
joined  our  ranks.  He  was  a  stunning-looking, 
athletic   type   of   manhood,   and   was   generally 

212 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

accompanied  by  his  mother.  She  was  devoted 
to  her  two  boys  —  Jack  and  Lowell  Mason.  I 
remember  that  many  young  girls  were  very 
attentive  to  Mrs.  Mason,  though  somewhat 
disappointed  if  Jack  were  not  also  in  evidence. 

Jack  was  always  up  to  some  sort  of  mischief. 
Our  old  stage  doorkeeper,  Louis  Bohner,  was 
the  butt  for  many  of  his  boyish  pranks.  Louis 
had  been  an  old  soldier  who  carried  his  medals 
and  scars  in  evidence.  He  had  also  been  a 
brave  soldier,  and  seemed  to  resent  the  reign 
of  peace.  He  guarded  the  stage  door  like  a 
sentinel,  and  was  ever  ready  with  war  an- 
ecdotes. Louis's  duty  was  also  to  guard  the 
mail-box  and  distribute  mail  and  packages  to 
the  Company.  He  could  always  inform  you 
in   advance   where    the   mail   was    postmarked. 

He  was  devoted  to  Mr.  Mason  whose  mail 
claimed  his  special  attention.  On  handing  him 
a  letter  he  would  usually  say,  "Das  ist  some 
letter,  Mr.  Mason :  I  don't  know  vat  iss  in 
it,"  eying  Mason  curiously  the  while.     On  one 

213 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM   DAYS 

of  those  occasions,  as  Louis  turned  his  back, 
Jack  dropped  a  huge  torpedo.  The  poor  old 
German  jumped  into  the  air,  shrieking:  "Da 
man  vat  do  das,  iss  a  liar."  After  that  Jack 
would  taunt  him  for  being  a  coward,  afraid  of 
a  toy  torpedo,  and  beg  him  to  lay  aside  his 
medals.  All  this  chaff  would  bring  forth  from 
Louis  incidents  of  shot  and  shell  and  brave  acts 
in  war  times,  told  in  an  excitable  manner,  and 
with  an  accent  almost  unintelligible.  All  this 
was  great  fun  for  Jack,  who  would  finally  toss 
the  old  fellow  a  cigar,  when  all  would  be  for- 
gotten and  forgiven. 

Mr.  Mason  remained  a  member  of  the  Com- 
pany for  some  years,  taking  leading  roles  and 
rapidly  becoming  one  of  our  most  popular 
actors.  He  left  us  and  played  for  a  time  in 
New  York,  then  returned  to  the  Museum  again 
for  a  revival  of  the  old  comedies.  Mr.  E.  H. 
Vanderfelt,  an  English  actor,  had  been  engaged 
as  leading  man,  but  gave  up  the  engagement  in 
the  middle  of  the  season.     He  found  a  constant 

214 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

change  of  bill  and  the  studying  of  new  parts  too 
strenuous,  and  Mr.  Mason  returned  to  take  his 
place,  but  not  for  long.  He  had  a  falling  out 
with  the  management  and  departed  abruptly, 
leaving  the  Museum  without  a  leading  man.  A 
young  actor  who  had  made  himself  quite 
popular,  Mr.  Erroll  Dunbar,  filled  the  gap  until 
arrangements  were  made  with  Mr.  Eben 
Plympton. 

Mr.  Plympton  was  a  spirited  actor,  having 
had  a  wide  range  of  experience,  and  was  espe- 
cially fine  in  the  old  English  comedies.  He  had 
played  those  characters  the  season  before.  Mr. 
Field  valued  his  work,  and  when  the  position 
of  leading  man  was  open,  Mr.  Plympton  was 
selected. 

There  were  many  rumors  that  the  breach 
between  Mr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Field  was  ad- 
justed, and  that  Mr.  Mason  might  have  re- 
turned had  he  been  willing  to  play  for  his  old 
salary,  but  in  the  meantime  he  had  been  to 
London,  made  a  success  there  in  "The  Idler", 

215 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

and  in  consequence  felt  that  his  services  were 
more  valuable.  It  was  said  that  Mr.  Field 
would  make  no  advance  from  the  former  salary, 
and  Mr.  Mason  said :  "The  trouble  is,  Mr. 
Field,  I  have  grown  up  in  your  theater  and  had 
the  misfortune  to  go  to  you  at  twenty  dollars 
a  week.  The  least  salary  that  I  had  expected 
you  would  offer  me  would  be  the  amount  that 
I  could  draw  at  one  matinee  each  week."  Mr. 
Field  was  obdurate,  and  so  ended  the  Mason- 
Field    controversy. 

Mr.  Mason  had  in  mind,  too,  at  that  time,  a 
plan  to  star,  and  no  one  could  deny  that  he  had 
superior  equipment  for  starring  if  he  chose  to 
pursue  his  professional  career  in  that  direction. 
He  appeared  as  Henry  Spreadbrow  in  "Sweet- 
hearts", by  W.  S.  Gilbert,  for  Miss  Clarke's 
benefit  on  Thursday  afternoon,  May  26,  1892, 
and  that  was  his  last  appearance  on  the  Boston 
Museum  stage.  What  a  glad  greeting  awaited 
him !  Every  man  from  the  stage  gave  him 
a  cordial  grip,  and  the  women  all  adored  him. 

216 


THE   YOUNGER  GENERATION 

The  audience  outdid  themselves  and  extended 
to  their  old  favorite  a  welcome  that  shook  the 
roof  of  the  playhouse. 

Jack  Mason  has  never  outgrown  those  dear 
old  Museum  days.  He  said  to  me  but  a  short 
time  ago,  "You  know  I  always  stop  at  the  old 
Parker  House  when  I  am  in  Boston.  I  can  see 
the  Museum  from  my  windows,  and  I  often 
stand  on  the  corner  by  Kings  Chapel  and  the 
old  burying-ground  and  look  across  the  street 
where  the  Tremont  House  used  to  be,  where 
my  mother  and  I  lived  so  happily.  Then  I 
saunter  down  by  the  old  Museum  and  stop  at 
what  used  to  be  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  up 
to  the  stage  entrance,  and  it  seems  hard  to 
believe  that  it  has  all  passed  out." 

That  old  location  is  entirely  changed. 
Sullivan's  Drug  Store  was  on  the  corner  that 
Houghton  and  Dutton's  store  now  occupies. 
Next  door  was  Galvin's  flower  shop.  On  the 
opposite  corner  was  the  old  Tremont  House, 
and      Papanti's      Dancing      Academy,     where 

217 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Boston's  most  exclusive  beaux  and  belles  tripped 
the  light  fantastic,  was  directly  opposite  the 
Museum.  Not  far  away  on  Tremont  Street 
was  Copeland's  Ice-cream  Parlor,  a  popular 
meeting-place  for  the  youngsters  as  well  as  the 
grown-ups.  Across  the  way  were  Atwood's 
Chop  House  and  Resteaux's  Drug  Store  — 
familiar  haunts  for  actors.  Remick's  Gem  Shop, 
next  door  to  the  Museum,  was  a  fascinating 
place,  where  my  husband  and  I. often  stopped 
to  admire  the  collections  of  precious  gems. 

Jack  Mason  has  ever  been  loyal  to  the  old 
location  "where  we  used  to  be  so  happy  in 
days  of  yore."  He  has  made  rapid  strides  in 
his  profession,  and  is  to-day  doing  his  best 
work.  I  feel  that  the  real  stock  training  he 
got  at  the  Boston  Museum,  with  its  intellectual 
background,  has  helped  to  make  him  the  intel- 
ligent actor  he  is  to-day. 

Elizabeth  Robins,  a  Southern  girl  still  in  her 
teens  when  she  joined  us  in   1883,  was  an  in- 

218 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

teresting  member  of  the  Company.  She 
showed  decided  promise  and  was  able  to  get  a 
splendid  training  in  all  kinds  of  parts.  She 
made  a  strong  impression  when  she  played 
Donna  Casilda  in  "Ruy  Bias"  and  Blanche  in 
"The  Iron  Chest."  After  two  seasons  with  us, 
she  left  and  joined  the  Edwin  Booth  Company, 
where  her  real  chance  came.  While  at  the 
Boston  Museum,  she  married  George  R.  Parke, 
a  promising  young  actor,  whose  end  was  tragic 
and  untimely.  After  the  death  of  her  husband, 
she  went  to  Norway  and  there  she  remained 
some  time  with  Mrs.  Ole  Bull.  During  that 
time  she  made  her  study  of  the  great  Norwegian 
dramatist,  and  later  aroused  the  attention  of 
London  playgoers  and  critics  in  Ibsen's 
heroines.  She  has  since  become  celebrated 
as  a  novelist. 

Miss  Helen  Dayne,  whose  resemblance  to 
Sadie  Martinot  was  quite  remarkable,  came 
just  after  Miss  Martinot's  sudden  disappear- 
ance, and  in  a  very  short  time  won  a  place  for 

219 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

herself  in  the  hearts  of  Bostonians,  as  well  as 
in  the  heart  of  our  orchestra  leader  —  George 
Purdy — whom  she  married.  They  both  re- 
mained in  the  Company  several  seasons  and 
were  valuable  members. 

Charles  Smith  Abbe,  a  stage-struck  boy, 
appeared  as  a  super  in  "Romany  Rye",  in 
1882.  After  a  season  of  indefinite  (super) 
work,  he  was  engaged  as  a  regular  member  of 
the  Company  at  the  magnificent  sum  of  three 
dollars  a  week.  He  was  given  small  parts  to 
play,  but  in  a  very  short  time  he  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  management  and  public  by  his 
playing  of  these  "bits."  He  was  cast  to  play 
Osric  in  "Hamlet"  in  support  of  Edwin  Booth, 
and  so  attracted  the  attention  of  the  star  that 
the  following  season  he  became  a  member  of 
Mr.  Booth's  Company. 

In  1890  we  find  him  back  at  the  Museum,  a 
full-fledged  actor.  His  first  real  hit  after  his 
return  was  as  Christopher  Dabney  in  "All  the 
Comforts  of  Home."     A  few  of  his  numerous 

220 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

successes  were  Bulger  in  "Sweet  Lavender", 
Joskins  in  "New  Lamps  for  Old",  and  Ike 
Johnson  in  "Hands  Across  the  Sea."  Mr.  Abbe 
has  always  kept  up  his  interest  in  painting  — 
a  study  he  had  taken  up  before  his  stage  career 
—  and  his  pictures  of  Warren  and  Jefferson 
are  eagerly  sought  by  collectors.  Mr.  Abbe 
was  a  member  of  the  Museum  Company  for 
seven  seasons. 

George  A.  Schiller  also  graduated  from  the 
super  ranks,  and  in  a  short  time  developed  into 
a  clever  comedian.  He  surprised  us  all  when 
he  got  his  first  chance  in  musical  comedy,  and 
is  to-day  a  leader  in  that  line.  Many  of  the 
stars  of  our  American  stage  were  graduates 
from  that  old  Boston  Museum  super  room. 

Among  the  attractive  young  women  was 
Georgia  Tyler,  a  prim  little  schoolma'am  in 
her  country  town,  who  came  from  Greenfield 
to  Boston  to  seek  fame  and  fortune  on  the 
Boston  Museum  stage.  She  was  a  strikingly 
handsome   girl   and,   strange   to   say,   hags   and 

221 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

witches  fell  to  her  lot  to  portray,  but  she  was 
very  ambitious  and  glad  to  play  any  part,  how- 
ever small  or  unpleasant.  When  "Little 
Em'ly"  was  produced,  she  was  cast  for  the  part 
of  Rosa  Dartle.  She  made  a  pronounced  suc- 
cess in  the  character  and  ever  after,  when  there 
was  a  villainess  in  a  play,  she  was  selected. 
Her  excellent  work  will  be  remembered.  In 
that  caste,  Frank  Burbeck  played  Steerforth, 
the  handsome,  polished  villain,  to  the  life. 

Miss  Norah  Bartlett  came  to  us  from  Ports- 
mouth. Attractive  and  distinguished  in  ap- 
pearance, she  was  very  much  in  earnest,  and 
showed  a  great  deal  of  promise,  but  her  stage 
career  was  a  short  one,  and  somehow  she  never 
really  seemed  one  of  us.  She  was  always  ac- 
companied by  an  enthusiastic  mother,  whom  I 
remember  very  pleasantly. 

Boyd  Putman,  a  delightful  young  actor,  fault- 
less in  dress  and  manner,  struggled  diligently  for 
the  position  he  attained  at  the  Museum  through 
his  painstaking  and  conscientious  efforts. 

222 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

Edgar  L.  Davenport  joined  the  company  in 
1887,  and  remained  at  the  Museum  five  seasons. 
He  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  part  of 
Robert  Van  Der  Veer  in  "The  Dominie's 
Daughter."  That  play  brings  to  my  mind 
June  Booth,  son  of  Agnes  Booth  and  brother  of 
Sidney  Booth,  who  was  also  with  us,  both  boys 
doing  excellent  work.  "The  Dominie's  Daugh- 
ter" is  tinged  with  sadness  in  my  mind,  as  Mrs. 
Vincent's  last  part  was  the  Dominie's  wife. 

The  last  decade  of  the  Museum  reign  from 
1883  to  1893  brought  in  a  new  generation 
of  players,  many  of  whom  had  already  won 
distinction.  Miss  Viola  Allen  assumed  the  posi- 
tion of  leading  woman  in  1888,  when  scarcely 
out  of  her  teens.  She  made  a  delightful  impres- 
sion as  Dearest  in  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy", 
with  Elsie  Leslie  as  the  little  lord.  Her  father, 
Leslie  Allen,  was  also  with  us  that  year  —  a 
sterling  old  actor  who  had  been  playing  many 
seasons  at  the  Boston  Theater  previous  to 
coming  to  us. 

223 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

The  Allen  family  were  delightfully  domestic. 
Mrs.  Allen,  who  had  also  been  a  member  of  the 
Boston  Theater  Company,  never  played  with 
us,  but  she  was  her  daughter's  constant  com- 
panion. She  made  Viola's  costumes,  and  they 
were  ideally  picturesque  and  correct.  She  was 
a  devoted  mother  and  housewife,  and  one  always 
knew  where  to  find  a  good  pattern  or  a  cooking 
receipt  and  incidentally  the  best  of  advice  when 
needed.  We  were  neighbors  for  a  time,  and 
I  missed  the  Aliens  when  they  left  their  cozy 
little  house  on  Rutland  Street. 

Eben  Plympton,  a  forceful,  spirited  actor, 
became  leading  man  when  John  Mason  de- 
parted abruptly,  but  did  not  remain  long.  He 
found  the  duties  strenuous,  and  complained  of 
the  hard  work,  often  saying,  "This  is  worse 
than  working  in  a  treadmill."  He  was  a 
splendid  actor,  though  somewhat  excitable  at 
times  —  very  temperamental  but  always  in- 
teresting. 

Miss  Emma  V.  Sheridan  filled  the  position  of 

224 


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THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

leading  lady  very  creditably  for  some  time. 
During  her  engagement  she  became  Mrs.  Frye. 

Mary  Hampton  and  Marie  Burress  might 
be  called  alternate  leading  ladies.  They  were 
both  handsome,  talented  young  women  of  oppo- 
site types.  Miss  Hampton  was  a  brilliant 
brunette  —  Miss  Burress  a  beautiful  blonde. 
Robert  Edeson  was  a  worthy  foil  as  leading  man. 

These  young  leading  men  and  women  were 
quite  equal  to  the  requirements,  but  the  char- 
acter of  plays  had  changed.  Romantic  drama 
and  melodrama  became  very  much  in  evi- 
dence. " Harbor  Lights",  "Bells  of  Hasle- 
mere",  "Hands  Across  the  Sea",  these  plays 
running  seventeen  weeks  each,  "English  Rose", 
and  "Ye  Airlie  Trouble"  were  successful  produc- 
tions. Miss  Evelyn  Campbell  gave  a  charming 
portrayal  of  the  English  Rose.  Marie  Burress 
made  her  greatest  success  in  the  play  of  "Ye 
Airlie  Trouble." 

"Harbor  Lights"  opened  the  season  of  1886 
at   the   Boston   Museum.     The   year   and   play 

225 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

are  impressed  on  my  mind  because  of  many 
incidents  connected  with  it.  My  husband  and 
myself  and  little  daughter  went  abroad  that 
year  for  the  first  time,  for  a  summer  vacation. 
Going  to  Europe  was  not  as  general  as  it  is  to- 
day. Our  plans  for  our  holiday  were  varied 
and  pleasant.  There  was  the  weekly  saving 
for  the  trip,  studies  in  French  and  German, 
careful  examination  of  guidebooks,  European 
maps,  etc. 

Miss  Annie  Clarke  and  her  mother  had  been 
over  the  summer  before,  and  they  advised  us 
how  to  plan  our  trip.  Miss  Clarke  said, 
"Never  will  another  trip  be  as  nice  as  the  first 
one",  and  truly  it  is  so. 

Well,  the  time  arrived  for  our  departure,  and 
we  were  an  exuberant  trio !  My  little  daugh- 
ter (very  tiny)  was  arrayed  in  a  long  frieze 
ulster,  with  a  field  glass  strapped  over  her 
shoulder  and  a  little  Turkish  fez  on  her  head, 
and  my  husband  and  myself  were  in  traveling 
regalia    that    would    to-day    seem    unusual    at 

226 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

least.  We  embarked  very  much  like  the 
Micawbers,  with  the  good  wishes  of  almost 
every  member  of  the  Company,  as  our  ship 
sailed  'mid  cheers  and  waving  of  handker- 
chiefs. 

Each  and  every  one  sent  a  ship  letter,  with  a 
special  message  inclosed.  The  message  was  a 
commission.  "Harbor  Lights"  was  to  be  pro- 
duced at  the  Boston  Museum  for  the  first  time 
in  America,  and  was  to  be  the  opening  bill  of 
the  coming  season.  It  was  being  played  in 
London,  and  I  was  commissioned  to  take  note 
of  the  play,  costumes,  and  stage  business  of 
each  individual  character.  I  was  so  familiar 
with  the  work  of  our  players  that  I  could  cast 
them  mentally,  and  I  discovered  at  the  first 
rehearsal  of  the  play  that  I  had  done  so  quite 
accurately. 

We  arrived  in  London  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
and  on  our  way  from  the  station  we  recognized 
many  American  actors,  whom  we  hailed  from 
our   hansom,     and    friendly    greetings    and   ad- 

227 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

dress  cards  were  exchanged.  Dear  old  Jimmie 
Lewis  was  the  first  actor  we  met. 

My  little  girl's  appearance  in  a  Turkish  fez 
aroused  much  merriment  among  the  English 
children,  and  in  consequence,  the  poor  child 
was  very  unhappy,  and  could  not  be  induced 
to  go  out  of  doors  until  an  approved  English 
hat  was  procured. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  was  a  bank  holiday, 
and  as  the  shops  were  all  closed,  we  were 
obliged  to  lose  two  whole  days  of  sight-seeing. 
The  landlady,  a  wholesome,  good-natured  soul, 
suggested  that  after  dark  we  take  the  child 
"  hout  for  a  bit,  hup  has  far  has  the  Circus" 
(meaning  Oxford  Circus).  The  little  one  thought 
it  was  a  real  circus,  and  the  explanation  caused 
her  much  disappointment.  The  poor  child, 
after  having  it  out  in  a  good  cry,  asked  for  a 
glass  of  ice-water,  whereupon  the  good  land- 
lady explained  sympathetically,  "Why,  Duckie 
dear,  we  don't  have  ice  in  summertime.  Ice 
only  comes  in  wintertime."     The  child  climbed 

228 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

into    her    father's    lap,    sobbing,    "Oh,    please, 
Father,  take  us  home.     I  like  'Merica  best." 

We  found  the  English  actors  very  hospitable 
and  courteous,  and  we  were  constantly  being 
entertained  at  their  homes  and  clubs.  Sir 
Henry  Irving  and  Air.  Wilson  Barrett  extended 
the  courtesy  of  their  theaters  to  us  during  our 
stay  in  London. 

It  was  at  the  Lyceum  that  I  saw  dear  old 
Mrs.  Stirling  as  the  nurse  in  "Romeo  and 
Juliet",  with  Ellen  Terry  as  Juliet.  It  was  an 
ideal  performance. 

Henry  Dixey  was  playing  in  London  at  the 
time.  He  was  not  received  very  enthusiasti- 
cally at  first ;  the  London  public  did  not  appre- 
ciate his  imitation  of  Sir  Henry  Irving.  Later, 
however,  the  prejudice  was  overcome,  and  he 
became  very  popular.  I  have  been  told  that  no 
one  was  more  amused  than  Sir  Henry  himself, 
who  would  request  Dixey  to  give  imitations  of 
him  at  clubs  and  social  gatherings,  where  Sir 
Henry  entertained  the  American  as  his  guest. 

229 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Mr.  Dixey  and  my  husband  had  been  friends 
since  the  old  "Evangeline"  days  at  the  Museum, 
where  he  danced  from  the  hind  legs  of  the 
heifer  to  the  front  rank  in  his  profession. 
A  funny  incident  is  connected  with  our 
meeting  of  him  in  London.  One  afternoon 
on  the  Strand,  we  were  passing  a  haberdasher's 
shop  where  a  quantity  of  socks  was  displayed 
at  the  door  as  an  advertisement.  Dixey,  on 
seeing  my  husband,  rushed  up  and  embraced 
him,  at  the  same  time  grabbing  up  a  number  of 
socks  and  thrusting  them  into  Mr.  Nolan's 
arms.  The  shopkeeper  rushed  out  and  took 
possession  of  my  husband,  while  he  lustily 
called  for  a  "Bobby."  Of  course  a  crowd 
soon  gathered,  as  can  well  be  imagined.  Dixey 
pacified  the  irate  shopkeeper  by  purchasing  the 
socks,  and  then  distributed  them  among  the 
crowd,  who  tumbled  over  each  other  to  get 
them.  For  a  few  minutes  there  was  indeed 
great  excitement.  We  were  greatly  embar- 
rassed.    Dixey   reveled    in    the   discomfiture  of 

230 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

my  poor  husband,  who  had  a  horror  of 
publicity.  We  saw  Dixey  play  at  the  Gaiety 
that  night,  where  he  introduced  lines  for  our 
special  entertainment,  many  suggesting  the 
incident  of  that  afternoon  on  the  Strand. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nat  C.  Goodwin  (Eliza 
Weathersby)  were  in  London  spending  the 
summer  with  the  Weathersby  family,  and  a 
delightful  family  they  were.  They  lived  in  a 
charming  house  at  Clapham  near  Clapham 
Common.  Many  a  time  we  had  the  pleasure 
of  dining  "en  famille"  with  the  Weathersbys, 
gaining,  through  Mother  Weathersby  and  her 
brood  of  delightful  girls,  a  charming  glimpse  of 
English  home  life.  The  girls,  Eliza,  Jennie, 
Emmie,  Nellie,  and  Harriet  were  all  followers 
of  the  stage. 

We  made  a  short  stay  in  Paris,  but  as  our 
time  was  limited,  we  preferred  to  spend  the 
greater  part  of  our  holiday  in  London. 

We  reached  home  on  time  for  rehearsal  by 
the  merest  chance.     It  seems  our  steamer  was 

231 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

scheduled  to  leave  from  a  certain  dock,  but  the 
sailing  was  changed  on  account  of  the  tide,  so 
when  we  reached  the  dock  we  found  we  had  at 
least  half  a  mile  to  walk ;  so  off  we  sprinted, 
like  a  Chinese  trio,  my  husband  ahead,  and  I, 
as  usual,  in  the  rear,  laughing  and  breathless, 
only  to  be  rushed  on  to  the  steamer  just  as  the 
gangplank  was  being  removed.  I  have  spent 
summers  abroad  since,  but  as  Miss  Clarke  has 
said,  "Never  will  another  trip  abroad  be  so 
enjoyable  as  the  first  one." 

We  saw  "Harbor  Lights"  several  times  in 
London,  and  I  brought  home  a  notebook  filled 
with  useful  information  for  my  associates.  The 
play  was  splendidly  staged.  Mr.  Sydney,  who 
staged  the  original  production  in  London,  was 
engaged  for  the  Museum  production,  and  no 
expense  was  spared.  It  was  a  great  success, 
George  Wilson,  Helen  Standish,  and  Mrs. 
Vincent  making  distinct  hits  in  their  respective 
parts.  There  was  one  ludicrous  situation  in 
the  play  when  Mrs.  Vincent  used  the  expression 

232 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

(as  only  she  could  use  it),  "The  engagement  is 
broke  hoff."  That  never  failed  to  convulse 
the  audience,  and  it  became  a  catch  expression 
about   town. 

In  that  play,  Isabelle  Evesson  made  her 
first  appearance,  as  Dora.  She  was  a  beauti- 
ful, wax-doll  type  of  girl.  When  "Held  by 
the  Enemy"  was  put  on,  she  was  cast  for 
Susan.  I  remember  she  had  some  difficulty 
in  getting  the  Southern  dialect.  She  and 
her  mother  lived  at  the  Vendome,  and  the 
waiter  who  served  them  at  table,  she  said, 
possessed  the  dialect  she  was  seeking,  so  for 
weeks  she  made  a  study  of  the  Southern  dialect, 
and  at  last  acquired  it,  giving  a  charming, 
sweet  portrayal  of  the  character.  Miss 
Evesson,  after  leaving  the  Museum,  made 
many  return  visits,  and  Boston,  ever  loyal, 
welcomed  her  kindly.  Dear  Belle  has  passed 
on  only  just  recently,  as  have  Eben  Plympton 
and  George  Purdy,  our  efficient  orchestra 
leader. 

233 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM  DAYS 

Maida  Craigin,  a  Boston  girl,  aroused  a 
great  deal  of  interest  the  first  night  of  her 
performance  in  "The  Jilt"  with  Dion  Bouci- 
cault.  She  made  a  favorable  impression  in 
many  plays,  especially  when  "Bells  of  Hasle- 
mere"  was  produced.  She  married  Arthur 
Falkland,  a  young  Englishman,  who  was  an 
actor  in  the  Company. 

Erroll  Dunbar  impressed  me  as  an  actor 
rather  seriously  inclined,  and  a  student  who 
loved  his  pipes,  of  which  he  had  a  wonderful 
collection.  He  lived  in  a  fascinating  studio  on 
Ashburton  Place  on  Beacon  Hill.  It  was  very 
high  up,  and  he  called  it  "Cloud's  Rest." 

Fanny  Addison  Pitt,  who  did  unusual  work 
and  never  failed  in  any  part  assigned  to  her, 
deserves  more  than  my  weak  praise.  Her 
husband,  H.  M.  Pitt,  was  also  a  capable  and 
distinguished  actor.  His  performance  of  the 
old  Earl  in  "Lord  Fauntleroy"  will  be  re- 
membered for  some  time  to  come. 

Many  of  these  actors  of  the  younger  genera- 

234 


THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION 

tion  —  both  stock  and  star  —  were  brilliant, 
capable,  and  skillful,  and  the  theater  never 
failed  to  keep  up  its  worthy  standard.  Yet 
after  William  Warren's  retirement  in  1883, 
there  was  a  marked  change  in  the  character  of 
the  Boston  Museum.  The  patrons  missed  the 
players  with  whom  they  had  become  familiar, 
and  whom  they  regarded  rather  as  old  friends 
of  long  standing  than  as  actors  playing  for  their 
amusement.  They  were  accustomed  to  their 
traits  and  peculiarities,  which  explains  the 
popularity  of  the  Old  English  comedies  so  fre- 
quently repeated  that  they  were  as  familiar  as 
household  words.  There  was  a  falling  off  in 
the  production  of  the  old  comedies  and 
standard  plays. 

Few  of  the  younger  generation  of  players 
were  familiar  with  the  traditions  of  that 
noble  school  of  acting,  or  what  might  be 
called  the  grand  manner,  which  was  one  of  its 
characteristics.  This  dignity  of  style  is  some- 
thing not  easily  explained,  but  is  instinctively 

235 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

felt.  The  younger  generation  is  inclined  to 
sneer  at  traditions,  and  has  even  tried  to  mod- 
ernize Shakespeare.  With  what  result  ?  I  have 
always  thought  it  a  mistake  to  modernize  the 
old  comedies,  even  in  the  matter  of  costume, 
so  much  of  their  atmosphere  is  therefore  lost ; 
and  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  if  the  old  plays 
were  again  well  acted  —  according  to  the  old 
traditions  —  we  would  experience  a  surprise 
that  would  be  good  for  us. 

But  with  the  passing  of  the  old  plays  and 
old  players,  the  patrons  so  loyal  for  a  half 
century  became  indifferent,  and  the  newer 
generation  of  playgoers  was  not  so  stanch  as 
the  old.  Our  manager,  R.  M.  Field,  stemmed 
the  tide  successfully  till  the  season  of  1893,  when 
he  was  obliged  to  succumb.  Mr.  Field  had 
been  at  the  helm  for  thirty  years.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  note  that  three  men  guided  that 
great  institution  at  different  periods  for  half 
a  century :  William  H.  Smith,  E.  F.  Keach, 
and  R.  M.  Field. 

236 


THE   YOUNGER  GENERATION 

Mr.  Field  was  born  in  Boston  in  1832.  Pre- 
vious to  joining  the  Museum  Company,  he  was 
connected  with  the  Boston  Post.  He  began  work 
as  a  typesetter,  and  later  became  one  of  our 
best  dramatic  critics.  Through  a  mutual  friend 
of  the  Kimball  family,  he  was  suggested  to  Mr. 
Moses  Kimball  to  fill  the  position  left  va- 
cant by  the  retirement  of  Mr.  Keach.  Mr. 
Kimball's  selection  proved  to  be  a  fortunate 
one. 

Mr.  Field  was  a  man  of  big  ideals,  who 
always  held  steadily  to  the  idea  that  the 
theater  should  be  an  artistic  force,  and  should 
exercise  an  influence  upon  the  dramatic  taste 
of  the  community  —  an  idea  that  he  carried 
out  successfully  for  many  years.  It  is  a  joy 
to  remember  that  he  resisted  all  commercial 
temptations,  and  maintained  the  traditions  of 
the  old  playhouse  to  the  last.  There  was 
indeed  a  sickening  feeling  of  pain  when  we 
realized  the  passing  of  the  old  Museum  days, 
and  none  felt  it  more  keenly  than  our  courteous 

237 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

manager,     who    had     conferred    a    permanent 
benefit  to  our  stage. 

The  last  play  presented  by  the  Stock  Com- 
pany was  "Shore  Acres."  When  the  final 
curtain  fell  that  last  night,  we  of  the  Old  Guard 
passed  out  of  the  theater  with  eyes  bedimmed 
with  tears,  our  hearts  flooded  with  memories, 
pleasant  and  unpleasant.  It  all  comes  over 
me  again,  as  I  look  across  the  Gulf  of  Yes- 
terday. How  much  our  life  is  fortified  by  our 
associations  and  friendships !  Though  many 
voices  are  hushed,  the  memory  of  that  past 
day  is  a  great  happiness  to  possess. 

"Would  you  have  your  song  endure  ? 
Build  on  the  human  heart." 


238 


CHAPTER  XIII 
Yesterday  and  To-day 

THE  Boston  Museum  Stock  Company  was 
in  its  day  a  powerful  influence  on  the 
minds,  morals,  and  manners  of  all  classes.  The 
Museum  was  a  place  of  recreation  for  the  old 
and  young  alike,  and  of  great  educational 
value,  serving  as  a  museum,  picture  gallery, 
library,  and  playground.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  there  are  many  grown-up  children  to-day 
who  remember  the  wax  gallery  with  its  horrors 
and  its  delights,  and  the  good  old  fairy  plays, 
"Puss  in  Boots",  "Aladdin",  and  "Humpty 
Dumpty",  with  G.  L.  Fox  as  the  clown.  There 
were  given  also  the  classics  —  Shakespeare, 
and  the  best  modern  comedies  —  where  might 
be  found  standards  of  speech,  of  conduct,  and 
of  tastes.     The  actors  were  students,  and  even 

239 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

the  beginner  in  the  ranks  must  be  familiar  with 
his   Shakespeare.     It  was  a  part  of  his  trade. 

One  served  a  long  apprenticeship  before 
securing  a  contract,  which  in  those  days  was 
issued  for  a  long  season.  There  was  no  two- 
weeks-clause,  as  to-day.  The  actor  or  manager 
who  willfully  violated  his  contract  was  regarded 
as  dishonorable,  and  ostracized  for  being  ir- 
responsible. An  engagement  could  only  be  ter- 
minated by  some  glaring  misdemeanor  on  the 
part  of  the  actor  in  violation  of  the  printed  rules. 

One  was  expected  to  conform  to  the  printed 
rules  and  regulations.  The  iron  rule  of  not  per- 
mitting strangers  on  the  stage  was  rigidly  en- 
forced. The  Museum  stage  was  sacred  to  the 
player.  We  were  very  much  surprised  on  one 
occasion  when  a  younger  member  of  the  Kim- 
ball family  brought  a  visitor  on  the  stage  as 
the  curtain  was  about  to  rise.  Mr.  Barron  at 
once  requested  that  the  stage  be  cleared  of 
visitors.  He  said  :  "We  are  not  a  lot  of  freaks 
to  be  exhibited  for  anybody's  pleasure  behind 

240 


YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 

the  scenes,"  and  the  curtain  was  held  until 
the  stage  was  clear  of  the  intruders.  That  is 
just  as  it  should  be.  It  is  somewhat  em- 
barrassing to  find  yourself  face  to  face  with 
strange  people  in  the  wings  when  you  come  off. 
Stage  etiquette  demanded  that  one  must 
endeavor  never  to  allow  a  scene  to  flag  through 
the  hesitation  of  any  character,  or  the  failure 
of  any  player  to  appear  upon  the  scene  at  the 
proper  time,  but  in  some  way  must  fill  up  the 
break  with  improvised  words  or  business,  and 
keep  the  play  in  motion,  whatever  unexpected 
change  of  lines  or  action  might  occur  on  the 
part  of  others.  If  a  member  of  the  Company 
were  late  at  rehearsal,  he  apologized  to  the 
actors  on  the  stage  as  well  as  to  the  stage 
manager.  It  was  not  permissible  to  suggest 
business  or  criticize  another  actor  during  a 
scene  of  a  rehearsal.  The  direction  of  the  play 
was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  stage  manager, 
and  any  grievance  might  be  discussed  with  him 
after  rehearsal.     Crossing  the  front  of  the  stage 

241 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

while  a  rehearsal  was  in  procedure  was  in  bad 
form.  Smoking  was  never  permitted  in  the 
greenroom.  The  men  used  the  music  room  for 
smoking,  and  could  enjoy  a  pipe,  if  they 
wished,  in  comfort,  as  there  was  a  call-boy  to 
warn  the  actors  for  their  scenes. 

Familiarity  between  players  and  the  public 
was  not  tolerated.  I  never  saw  our  actors 
playing  to  individuals  or  groups  in  the  au- 
dience. We  were  all  conscious  of  an  audience, 
of  course,  but  there  was  a  sort  of  dead  line  that 
separated  the  stage  from  the  spectators.  Our 
actors  avoided  publicity.  The  leading  mem- 
bers of  the  Company  were  conscious  of  having 
won  a  degree  of  position  in  the  life  of  the  city, 
and  realized  that  much  of  their  magnetism  de- 
pended on  maintaining  a  certain  glamour  around 
their  personality,  which  would  fade  with  inti- 
macy. They  never  attempted  to  gain  any 
social  prominence.  They  bore  themselves  with 
dignity  and  were  not  indifferent  in  their  bearing 
toward  the  public. 

242 


YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 

Our  engagements  at  the  Museum  were 
reckoned  by  decades  rather  than  by  seasons 
in  the  early  days,  our  dramatic  season  lasting 
into  midsummer.  The  Fourth  of  July  was 
anything  but  a  holiday  for  the  actors.  Per- 
formances were  given  every  two  hours  on  that 
day,  the  last  one  after  the  fireworks  at  night. 
I  remember  sitting  out  on  the  balcony  in  the 
shade  of  the  globe  lights,  watching  the  fire- 
works and  waiting  for  the  people  to  come  in. 
Somehow  the  crowd  of  holiday  folks  seemed  to 
get  more  innocent  fun  out  of  life  in  those  days, 
with  its  pink  lemonade  and  peanuts,  whips  and 
toy  balloons,  than  they  do  to-day. 

I  can't  help  wondering  whether  the  dreams 
of  our  childhood  are  not  the  real  ones  after  all, 
rather  than  the  dreams  that  come  from  a 
mature  mind.  When  the  spirit  of  Youth  dom- 
inates, all  the  world  is  beautiful.  Why  should 
we  allow  that  spirit  to  grow  old  ?  So  long  as 
we  preserve  the  spirit  of  Youth,  we  are  fortified 
against  petty  trials,  and  it  will  stand  by  us  in 

243 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

times  of  greatest  anguish.  Well,  those  were 
happy  days,  despite  the  hard  work. 

I  have  in  mind  the  play  of  "Moll  Pitcher", 
a  popular  holiday  piece.  In  it  I  played  two 
parts;  one  was  a  little  black  "gal",  the  other 
a  demure  Puritan  maiden.  I  was  discovered 
at  the  rise  of  the  curtain  as  the  little  darky, 
and  in  the  next  act  as  the  simple  Puritan  maid ; 
and  then  a  return  to  the  character  of  the  little 
darky  for  the  last  act,  which  meant  putting 
on  and  taking  off  burnt  cork  make-up  eight 
times  that  day,  but  I  loved  the  work. 

There  is  a  great  fascination  about  stage  life  — 
a  peculiar  fascination  —  that  nothing  else  seems 
to  offer.  Perhaps  it  is  the  power  of  pleasing 
people,  if  only  for  a  few  moments,  —  and  in 
the  character  of  another  than  one's  self.  When 
one  is  deadly  tired  and  would  prefer  to  cuddle 
down  and  read  a  good  book,  it  is  hard  to  have 
to  go  to  the  theater.  But  once  there  and  out 
in  front  with  the  audience  —  with  the  lights 
and  applause  and  music  and  all  the  surround- 

244 


YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 

ings  that  go  with  the  play  —  one  forgets  being 
tired  and  leaves  the  theater  actually  refreshed. 
Acting  is  a  great  panacea  for  the  aches  of  mind 
and  body,  and  acting,  too,  tends  to  keep  one 
young,  at  least  in  feeling.  The  active  life,  the 
constant  brain  activity,  keep  the  sentiments 
youthful,  and  give  one  no  chance  to  become 
old. 

Extra  performances  then  meant  extra  pay  at 
the  rate  of  an  eighth  of  a  week's  salary,  so  we 
rejoiced  in  being  cast  in  the  holiday  bill.  Until 
1 87 1,  there  were  no  Saturday  performances 
given  before  the  Puritanical  Sabbath,  which 
began  at  sundown  on  Saturday.  When  I  first 
went  to  the  Museum,  the  members  of  the 
Company  who  were  engaged  in  the  Saturday- 
night  bill  were  paid  for  an  extra  performance. 
Such  plays  as  "Ruy  Bias",  "Iron  Chest", 
"Lucretia  Borgia",  or  some  Shakespearean 
tragedy  were  usually  selected. 

Speaking  of  Saturday-night  bills  brings  to 
my  mind  the  gallery  god  of  that  time.     I  am 

245 


OLD   BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

sure  that  the  gallery  god  of  the  old  days  got 
more  realism  out  of  the  theater  than  he  does 
to-day.  He  usually  expressed  his  likes  and 
dislikes  in  a  way  that  could  not  fail  to  be  under- 
stood. He  was  familiar  with  the  text  of  Shake- 
speare and  often  anticipated  the  actor's  lines. 
Often  in  our  Shakespearean  plays,  we  required 
many  supers,  and  it  was  not  unusual  to  hear 
those  supers  in  their  dressing  rooms  give  entire 
scenes  from  Shakespeare.  I  doubt  if  that  ever 
happens  to-day. 

The  production  of  Thomas  Russell  Sullivan's 
play,  "Midsummer  Madness",  is  impressed  on 
my  mind  for  the  reason  that  it  led  to  the  signing 
of  my  first  contract.  After  years  in  the  ranks 
playing  thinking  parts,  good  parts,  bad  parts, 
no  parts  at  all,  I  was  cast  for  the  landlady. 
Mrs.  Vincent  was  originally  cast  for  the  role, 
but  for  some  reason  or  other  she  didn't  play 
it,  and  I  was  put  on  at  short  notice. 

It  was  an  unusual  opening  night.  There 
was  great  interest  in  the  play,  as  it  was  said  to 

246 


YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 

be  written  for  the  Museum  Company.  A  very 
enthusiastic  and  fashionable  audience  greeted 
us,  and  the  production  proved  a  success.  They 
were  re-engaging  the  Company  for  another 
season  about  that  time,  and  I  also  was  re- 
engaged with  a  contract  and  a  salary  of  nine 
dollars  a  week.  My  salary  for  years  previous 
to  that  time  was  six  dollars  a  week,  with  an 
extra  eighth  of  a  week's  salary  when  I  played 
on  Saturday  night. 

This  was  my  first  contract  and  I  was  filled 
with  joy  in  receiving  it  and  in  the  feeling  of 
having  at  last  reached  the  goal.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  I  was  a  real  actress,  with  my  pass- 
port in  the  strong  box.  I  said  to  my  husband 
while  crossing  the  Common  that  night,  on  our 
way  home,  "Jimmie,  I  am  quite  satisfied  now. 
But  if  the  time  ever  comes  when  I  have  a  con- 
tract signed  at  twelve  dollars  a  week,  I  shall 
never  ask  for  more." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "don't  be  so  sure.  As 
your  salary  increases,  your  wants  will  increase." 

247 


OLD  BOSTON  MUSEUM  DAYS 

No,  I  was  convinced  that  twelve  dollars  a 
week  and  a  chance  some  time  to  play  Lady 
Macbeth  would  complete  my  desire,  —  but  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  Nature  never  intended  me 
for  a  tragedienne. 

The  salaries  of  actors  were  small  in  those 
days,  but  we  lived  simpler  lives.  There  was 
no  sighing  for  the  social  limelight.  The  Com- 
pany was  composed  of  home  bodies  who  re- 
spected their  profession.  Our  stage  managers 
were  not  merely  producers  and  contrivers  of 
stage  business.  They  knew  the  literature,  the 
traditions,  the  art  of  their  profession. 

I  tell  you  it  was  a  great  treat  to  grow  up  with 
such  people.  There  was  a  certain  nobility  of 
character  in  them,  a  dignity  that  was  splendid. 
The  audience,  too,  seemed  a  part  of  our  life. 
Everybody  seemed  to  know  everybody  else. 
An  artistic  atmosphere  pervaded  the  house 
as  well  as  the  stage  itself. 

I  think  that  the  actors  of  yesterday  were  more 
versatile.     The    opportunity    for    fundamental 

248 


YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 

training  was  better.  You  felt,  because  of  that, 
there  was  more  of  an  intellectual  background 
in  the  conception  of  a  character.  You  see  to- 
day a  man  is  selected  because  he  is  a  type,  not 
because  of  his  ability  as  actor.  He  has  some 
special  personal  characteristic,  and  when  that 
characteristic  is  outlived,  then  the  career  of 
the  specialist  is  limited. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  that  there  are  no  good 
actors  to-day.  There  are  many.  The  present 
offers  plenty  of  opportunities  to  enjoy  the 
finest  pleasure  the  art  of  the  theater  can  give. 
It  is  absurd  to  sigh  for  the  plays  of  the  past ; 
most  of  the  people  of  to-day  don't  want  them. 

The  stage  is  largely  what  the  people  make  it. 
It  simply  tries  to  meet  the  public  demand. 
The  difference  between  the  stage  of  to-day  and 
the  stage  of  yesterday  is  the  same  difference 
that  distinguishes  the  people  of  to-day  and  the 
people  of  yesterday.  The  actor  of  yesterday, 
to  be  successful,  must  change  with  the  develop- 
ment acting  constantly  undergoes. 

249 


OLD   BOSTON   MUSEUM   DAYS 

I  am  not  sighing  for  the  good  old  days  and 
the  good  old  plays.  I  am  very  much  in  the 
present,  and  quite  conscious  of  the  realism  and 
the  art  of  to-day.  If  all  things  and  times 
change,  it  is  well  we  change  with  them.  Old 
school,  new  school,  what  does  it  matter,  so 
that  it  is  good  ? 

But,  somehow,  those  earlier  days  hold  fond 
memories  for  me.  New  things  come  into  our 
lives,  new  people  and  new  interests,  but  they 
cannot  quite  replace  the  old  —  so  I  will  say 
with  Bobbie  Burns  : 

"Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  never  brought  to  mind  ? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  days  o'  lang  syne  ?" 


250 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Abbe,    Charles    Smith,    155, 

206,  220,  221. 
Abbey's    Park    Theater,    New 

York,  175. 
Acres,  Agnes,  155. 
Adams,  Edwin,  7. 
Addison,  Fannie,  155,  206,  234. 
Allen,  Leslie,  206,  223. 
Allen,  Mrs.  Leslie,  224. 
Allen,  Viola,  206,  223,  224. 
Ames,  Amy,  22,  96,  98,  99. 
Ames,  Joseph,  98. 
Anderson,  Mary,  39,  40. 
Anderson,  Mr.  (English  actor), 

134- 

Applcton,  Nathan,  40. 

Arden,  Edwin,  206. 
Atwell,  Grace,  206. 
Atwood's,  56,  218. 
Aunt    Belle.     See   Miss  Wil- 
liams. 

Ball,  Thomas,  6. 
Banks,  N.  P.,  ill. 
Barnabee,  H.  C,  39. 
Barr,  O.  H.,  141. 
Barrett,  Mrs.  George  H.,  7. 


Barrett,  Lawrence,  39,  40,  in, 
114,  198-200. 

Barrett,  Wilson,  229. 

Barron,  Charles,  22,  24,  28,  50, 
70,  80-90;  birth  of,  80; 
debut  of,  80;  benefit  to, 
81 ;  joins  Museum  Com- 
pany, 81 ;  versatility  of, 
82-84;  an  amusing  con- 
tretemps, 84,  85 ;  at  Press 
Club  benefit,  87,  88;  leaves 
the  Museum,  89;  with 
John  McCullough,  89;  at 
Wallack's  Theater,  89; 
retirement  of,  90;  155, 
240. 

Barrow,  Mr.,  72. 

Barrow,  Mrs.,  7. 

Bartlett,  Nora,  222. 

Batchelder,  Josie,  144. 

Blanchard,  Gertrude,  206. 

Blanchard,  Kitty,  109. 

Blatchford,  George  W.,  49. 

Bohner,  Louis,  213,  214. 

"Bones",  meaning  of,   in   the- 
atrical parlance,  47. 

Boniface,  George  C,  155,  206. 


253 


INDEX 


Booth,  Agnes,  223. 

Booth  Company,  Edwin.  See 
Edwin  Booth  Com- 
pany. 

Booth,  Edwin,  7,  39,  40,  180- 
184,  220. 

Booth,  Junius  Brutus  (the 
elder),  7. 

Booth,  Junius  Brutus  (the 
younger),  206,  223. 

Booth.  Sidney,  206,  223. 

Boston  Post,  237. 

Boston  Museum,  opening  of,  2  ; 
building  occupied  by,  2, 
3  ;  form  of  entertainment, 
3 ;  first  dramatic  enter- 
tainment, 4 ;  new  build- 
ing of,  4;  long  life  of, 
4,  5  ;  first  Stock  Company, 
5;  Curio  Halls,  6;  debut 
of  Edwin  Booth  at,  7; 
notable  artists,  1850-1872, 
7;  Wax  Gallery,  15  ;  Kate 
Ryan's  introduction  to, 
10-22;  Company,  1872, 
22 ;  length  of  service  at, 
23;  famous  quartette,  24; 
William  Warren  joins  Com- 
pany, 27;  his  return  to, 
27;  golden  jubilee  of  Wil- 
liam Warren,  36-42 ;  Mrs. 
Vincent  joins  Company, 
46;  experience  of  Com- 
pany on  road,  48-51 ;  rats 
and  mice  in,  51,  52;  the 
stage  cat,  53  ;  fiftieth  an- 
niversary of  Mrs.  Vincent, 
59,  60;  her  last  appear- 
ance, 61 ;    first  appearance 


of  Annie  Clarke,  63  ;  Annie 
Clarke  rejoins  Company, 
64;  rivalry  with  other 
houses,  67-69;  retirement 
of  Annie  Clark,  73  ;  benefit 
and  testimonial  to,  73-79; 
Charles  Barron  joins  Com- 
pany, 81  ;  his  successes, 
82-89;  retirement  of,  89; 
articles  by  J.  B.  Clapp  on, 
108 ;  James  Nolan  rejoins 
Company,  109;  represen- 
tatives in  Civil  War,  III; 
James  Burrows  joins  Com- 
pany, 150;  criticism  of 
performances  at,  154-156; 
"Pinafore"  at  the,  158; 
Miriam  O'Leary  joins  Com- 
pany, 163  ;  Sadie  Martinot 
joins  Company,  166;  fire 
inspectors  at,  169-171 ; 
famous  stars  at,  173-204; 
greenroom  of,  177-180; 
noted  visitors,  178,  179; 
library,  178;  Richard 
Mansfield  at,  187;  zenith 
of  its  greatness,  205  ;  Stock 
Company,  1883-1893,  206, 
207;  changes  in  stage 
management,  207;  John 
Mason,  211-218;  his  last 
appearance,  216;  changes 
after  1882,  235,  236;  man- 
agement of  R.  M.  Field, 
237,  238;  passing  of  the, 
238;  "Shore  Acres"  last 
play  at,  238;  power  for 
good,  239;  educational 
value  of,  239;  Wax  Gallery 


254 


INDEX 


Boston  Museum,  continued, 
at,  239;  its  repertoire,  239; 
ethics  of  its  management, 
240;  discipline  of,  240- 
242 ;  the  etiquette  ob- 
served, 239,  240;  length 
of  service  at,  243  ;  days  of 
hard  work  in,  244;  fascina- 
tions of  stage  life,  244,  245  ; 
extra  performances  at,  245  ; 
gallery  gods  of,  245,  246; 
salaries  at,  247,  248. 

Boston  Museum  and  Gallery  of 
Fine  Arts.  See  Boston 
Museum. 

Boston  Theatre,  64,  87,  117, 
223,  224. 

Boucicault,  Dion,  167,  184-187. 

Bowles,  Percy,  207. 

Bowne,  Miss,  22. 

Boylston  Museum,  165. 

Bradford,  Joseph,  107. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  43. 

Brown,  Charles.  See  Charles 
Barron. 

Buffalo  Bill,  95. 

Bulfinch  Place,  43. 

Burbeck,  Frank,  206,  222. 

Burress,  Marie,  206,  225. 

Burrows,  James,  viii,  22,  50; 
at  Annie  Clarke's  testi- 
monial, 78;  Press  Club 
benefit,  88;  in  the  Civil 
War,  m;  recollections 
of  the  War,  113;  141,  144; 
ancestry  and  early  life, 
147-149;  Civil  War,  149; 
joins  Museum  Company, 
150;       with       Providence 


Opera  House  Company, 
151  ;  rejoins  Museum  Com- 
pany, 152;  with  Richard 
Mansfield  to  London,  152; 
back  to  Museum,  152; 
marriage,  153;  criticism 
of  Museum  performance, 
153—156 ;   later  years,  157. 

Burrows,  Mrs.  James.  See 
Hattie  A.  Hill. 

Burrows,  Warren,  153. 

Campbell,  Evelyn,  206,  225. 

Carle,  Alice,  211,  212. 

Carlos,  Frank,  22. 

Cary,  Mary,  96-98. 

"Caste",  Warren's  last  ap- 
pearance in  public  in,  42. 

Castle  Square  Theatre,  147. 

Cat,  the  Museum's  stage,  53,  54. 

Catlin,  F.  N.,  22. 

Cats,  Mrs.  Vincent's  fondness 
for,  58. 

"Chestnut",  origin  of  the  ex- 
pression, 145,  146. 

Civil  War,  members  of  Boston 
Museum  Company  in,m. 

Clapp,  H.  A.,  184. 

Clapp,  John   Bouve,  viii,   108. 

Clarke,  Annie  M.,  19,  20,  22, 
24,30,34,  50,52;  birth  of, 
63;  early  life,  63,  64; 
first  appearance  at  Mu- 
seum, 63  ;  rejoins  Com- 
pany, 64;  becomes  lead- 
ing lady,  65;  her  versa- 
tility, 65,  66;  ambition  to 
play  Hamlet,  66;  her  fa- 
vorite characters,  67;    her 


255 


INDEX 


Clarke,  Annie  M.,  continued, 
loyalty,  69;  success  in  old 
comedies,  69,  70;  acci- 
dent to,  70;  memories  of 
old  friends,  71 ;  retires 
from  Museum,  73 ;  fare- 
well benefit,  73 ;  testi- 
monial to,  73-79;  pres- 
entations to,  77,  78 ;  with 
Julia  Marlowe  Company, 
79;  death  of,  79;  87,  88, 
187,  216,  226,  232. 

Coghlan,  Charles,  89. 

Coghlan,  Rose,  89. 

Coleman,  Thomas  L.,  206. 

Collins,  Dr.  David,  164. 

Collins,      Mrs.      David.        See 
Miriam  O'Leary. 

Comer,  Thomas,  5. 

Comley,  Mr.,  161. 

Comley,     Mrs.       See      Lizzie 
Harold. 

Conway,  Mr.,  7. 

Conway,  Mrs.,  7. 

Copeland's    Ice-cream    Parlor, 
218. 

Couldock,  C.  W.,  7. 

Coulter,  Frazer,  206. 

Courtney,  Harry,  207. 

Craigin,  Maida,  206,  234. 

Crane,  William  H.,  173. 

Crisp,  Harry,  95,  ill. 

Curio  Halls  of  the  Boston  Mu- 
seum, 6. 

Cushman,  Charlotte,  7. 

Dade,  Charles,  206. 

Daly,  Augustin,  133. 

"Dash  ",  Kate  Ryan's  dog,  106. 


Davenport,  Edgar  L.,  64,  155, 
206,  223. 

Davenport,  Mrs.  Edgar  L.,  7. 

Davenport,  Fanny,  109,  197. 

Davenport,  May,  211. 

Dayne,  Helen,  206,  219,  220. 

Denin,  Kate,  7,  65. 

Denin,  Susan,  81. 

Dixey,  Henry  E.,  76,  173,  229- 
231. 

"Dominie's  Daughter,  The", 
Mrs.  Vincent's  last  ap- 
pearance in,  61. 

"  Dot  ",  Mrs.  Vincent's  dog,  50, 

Downing,  Nellie,  22. 

"  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde," 

190. 
Drama,    Museum    offers    prize 

for  best  moral,  5. 
Dramatic  entertainment,   first, 

in  Museum,  4. 
Drew,  Mrs.  John,  7,  39. 
Dunbar,  Erroll,  215,  234. 

Eagle   Theater,   New  York, 

164. 
Edeson,  Robert,  206,  225. 
Edwin  Booth  Company,  219. 
Emancipation     statue,     replica 

by  Thomas  Ball,  6. 
Evesson,  Isabelle,  206,  233. 

Falkland,  Arthur,  206,  234. 
Falkland,    Mrs.    Arthur.     See 

Maida  Craigin. 
Farley,  Mary  Ann.     See  Mrs. 

J.  R.  Vincent. 
Farren,  Mrs.,  7. 


256 


INDEX 


Fechter,  Charles,  166. 

Field,  R.  M.,  8;    Kate  Ryan's 

first  interview  with,  12-14; 

21,    41,    51,    76,    ISO,    151, 

157,  161,  166,  215,  216, 
236,238. 

First  United  States  Volunteer 

Veterans,  150. 
Fisher,  Amelia,  35,  36. 
Fitch,  Clyde,  164. 
Flockton,  C.  P.,  206. 
Forrest,  Arthur,  206. 
Forrest,  Edwin,  46,  61,  109. 
Forrest  Home  for  Actors,  124. 
Forty-eighth        Massachusetts 

Infantry,  1 11. 
Friend,  Ethelyn,  206. 
Frohman,  Daniel,  102. 
Frye,     Mrs.       See     Emma    V. 

Sheridan. 

Galvin's  Flower  Shop,  217. 

Germon,  Mr.,  5. 

Germon,  Mrs.,  5,  6,  191. 

Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  Operas, 
158-161 ;  212. 

Gilbert,  W.  S.,  216.' 

Glenn,  Ida,  206. 

Glessing,  Mr.,  169,  170. 

Globe  Theater,  165. 

Goodwin,  Nat  C,  173,  231. 

Goodwin,  Mrs.  Nat  C.  See 
Eliza  VVeathersby. 

Gould,  Howard,  206. 

Graham,  B.  R.,  168,  169. 

Grainger,  Willis,  206. 

Greenroom  of  the  Boston  Mu- 
seum, 177-180. 

Guiney,  Louise  Imogen,  77,  78. 


Hadley,  Lillian,  206. 
Hallett,  Franklin,  206. 
Hampton,  Mary,  206,  225. 
Hardenberg,  Frank,  22,  70,  132, 

139- 

Harkins,  D.  H.,  114. 

Harold,  Lizzie,  160. 

Harris,  Doctor,  107. 

Harris,  William,  114. 

Hart,  Mrs.  ("Hartie"),so. 

Hartwig,  Nat,  207. 

Harvard  Plays,  costumed  by 
Mrs.  Vincent,  57. 

Haworth,  Joseph,  161-163. 

Hebron,  Mary,  207. 

Heron,  Mathilda,  7. 

Hill,  Hattie  A.,  153. 

Hofendahl,  Doctor,  120. 

Holliday  Street  Theater,  Balti- 
more, 46. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  178, 
179. 

Holt,  Edwin,  206. 

Horse-car,  actors  welcome  ad- 
vent of,  47. 

Hotel  Thorndike,  192. 

Howard  Athenaeum,  first  ap- 
pearance of  William  War- 
ren in  Boston  at,  26;  64, 
109,  166. 

Howells,  William  Dean,  178. 

Hudson,  Alfred,  206,  210. 

Hunt,  Charles,  W.,  5,  27. 

Irving,  Sir  Henry,  229. 

Janauschek,     Madame,     195, 

196. 
Jansen,  Marie,  76. 


257 


INDEX 


Jefferson,  Joseph,  40,  127,  128, 

HS- 
"  Jip  ",  Annie  Clarke's  dog,  50. 
Jones,  J.  H.,  159. 
Jones,  Mrs.  J.  H.     See  Rose 

Temple. 
Jordan,  Louise,  206. 
Judah,  Mrs.,  7. 
Julia  Marlowe  Company,  79. 

Keach,  E.  F.,  7,  149,  178,  236, 

237- 

Keane  Company,  Laura.  See 
Laura  Keane  Company. 

Kellerd,  John,  173,  176,  177, 
206. 

Kimball,  Moses,  founder  of 
Boston  Museum,  I ;  pub- 
lic services  of,  6,  7;  death 
of,  8;  personality  of,  21, 
22;  237. 

Kimball,  David,  joint-owner  of 
New  England  Museum, 
2,3. 

King's  Chapel,  217. 

Laura  Keane  Company,  109. 
LeClerq,  Carlotta,  66. 
Lee,  Kenneth,  207. 
LeMoyne,  William  J.,  103,  104, 

in,  113,  118,  144. 
Leslie,  Elsie,  223. 
Lewis,  James,  109,  228. 
Library  of  the  Boston  Museum, 

Livingston,  Alice,  207. 
Logan,  Eliza,  7. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth, 
178,  179. 


Lowell,  Massachusetts,  New 
England  Museum  moved 
to,  2. 

Lucas,  R.  H.,  22. 

Lyceum  Theater,  103. 

Macaroni  Club,  98,  106. 

McClannin,  R.  F.,  22,  142. 

McCullough,  John,  39,  40,  89, 
141,  142. 

MacDowell,  E.  A.,  206. 

MacDowell,  Melbourne.  See 
William  Melbourne. 

Madison  Square  Theater,  New 
York,  194. 

Maguinnis,  Dan,  104,  105,  109. 

Manola,  Marion,  76. 

Mansfield,  Richard,  152,  161, 
187-194. 

Mansfield  Company,  Richard. 
See  Richard  Mansfield 
Company. 

Marden,  Miss,  23. 

Marlowe  Company,  Julia.  See 
Julia  Marlowe  Company. 

Marsh,  Fanny,  22. 

Martinot,  Sadie,  E.  A.  Sothern 
plays  joke  on,  55,  56;  am- 
bition and  confidence  of, 
164;  in  Boston,  165; 
opinion  of  Boston,  165; 
joins  Museum  Company, 
166;  marriage,  166;  at- 
tractive personality  of,  166, 
167;  ability  as  a  musician, 
167;  with  Boucicault  to 
London,  167;  leaves  Mu- 
seum, 167,  168;    208,  219. 

Mason,  John,  76,  161,  189,  209; 


258 


INDEX 


Mason,  John,  continued, 

his  mischievousness,  213; 
in  New  York,  214;  re- 
turns to  Museum,  214; 
break  with  the  manage- 
ment, 215,  216;  in  Lon- 
don, 215;  Annie  Clarke's 
benefit,  216;  affection  for 
old  Museum  days,  217; 
his  loyalty  and  success,  218. 

Mason,  Lowell,  213. 

Mason,  Susy,  170-172. 

Mason,  W.  S.,  22. 

Melbourne,  William,  206. 

Mercantile    Amateur    Associa- 
tion, 117. 

Meredith,  Harry,  114. 

Mestayer,  Emily,  28. 

Meyers,  Louisa,  66. 

Mice,  Mrs.  Vincent's  fear  of,  52. 

Mill  Dam,  Kate  Ryan's  home 
on  old,  105. 

Miller,  Henry,  173,  206. 

Miller,  Mrs.  Henry,  206. 

Modjeska,  Madam,  196,  197. 

Montague,  Harry,  198. 

Montgomery,  Mrs.     See  Sadie 
Ormond. 

Montgomery,  Walter,  7. 

Moore,  Madeleine,  90. 

Morris,  William,  176. 

Morrison,  Lewis,  76. 

Mt.  Auburn  Cemetery,  43. 

Murphy,     Mr.,     proprietor    of 
omnibus  line,  47. 

Mystic  Pond,  144,  146. 


Vincent  at,  46;    109,   124, 

Neilson,  Adelaide,  66. 

New  England  Museum,  2. 

Nolan,  James,  22,  50;  mar- 
riage, 96 ;  souvenir  of  old 
elm,  96,  97;  104;  member 
of  Macaroni  Club,  106;  a 
good  story-teller,  107; 
popularity  in  Boston,  108; 
in  Civil  War,  109; 
wounded  and  taken  pris- 
oner, 109;  with  Howard 
Athenaeum  Company,  109; 
with  Edwin  Eorrest,  109; 
with  Laura  keane  Com- 
pany, 109;  at  National 
Theater,  109;  rejoins  Mu- 
seum Company,  109;  his 
ability  as  an  actor,  no; 
his  death,  1 10;  recollec- 
tions of  the  War,  in;  144. 

Norris,  J.  \V.,  144. 

Norris,  Mrs.  J.  W.  See  Josie 
Batch elder. 

Old  Eccles,  Warren's  last  ap- 
pearance in  public  as,  4:. 

Old  Ladies'  Home,  1 72. 

O'Leary,  Miriam,  123,  155;  her 
first  appearance,  163,  164. 

O'Reilly,  John  Boyle,  107,  131. 

Ormond,  Sadie,  171,  172. 

Orton,  Josie,  7,  28,  65. 

Osgood,  James  R.,  40. 

Owen,  W.  V.,  206. 


National       Theater,       first    " Pansy  ",  Annie  Clarke's  dbg, 

Boston  appearance  of  Mrs.  50. 


259 


INDEX 


Papanti's  Dancing  Academy, 
217. 

Parke,  George  R.,  219. 

Parke,  Mrs.  George  R.  See 
Elizabeth  Robins. 

Parker  House,  106,  217. 

Parker,  Margaret,  22,  99,  100. 

Parrot,  Mrs.  Vincent's,  58. 

Payne,  Morton,  207. 

Pelby,  William,  46. 

Phillips,  Adelaide,  5. 

Phillips,  Laura,  96,  98,  140. 

Pitman,  James  R.,  22,  50,  70; 
birth  of,  136;  joins  the 
Museum  Company,  136; 
prompter,  136;  his  ability 
and  versatility,  136,  137; 
trials  of  his  position,  137— 
141 ;  an  amusing  mistake, 
142;  fondness  for  fish- 
ing, 143,  144;  at  Castle 
Square  Theater,  147 ;  death, 
147. 

Pitt,  H.  M.,  206,  234. 

Pitt,  Mrs.  H.  M.  See  Fanny 
Addison. 

Plympton,  Eben,  155,  206,  215, 
224,  233. 

Polk,  Joseph,  116. 

"Popping  the  Question",  Mrs. 
Vincent's  first  Boston  ap- 
pearance in,  46. 

Press  Club  Benefit,  87,  88. 

Providence  Opera  House  Com- 
pany, 151. 

Punch  and  Judy  show,  Kate 
Ryan's  first  plays,  10. 

Purdy,  George,  206,  210,  220, 
233- 


Purdy,       Mrs.       George.     See 

Helen  Dayne. 
Putman,  Boyd,  222. 

Rammetti,  Joe,  106. 

Rats,  in  the  Museum,  52;  Mrs. 
Vincent's  fear  of,  52. 

Reeves,  Fanny,  206. 

Reignolds,  Kate,  7,  65,  66. 

Remick's  Gem  Shop,  218. 

Resteaux's  Drug  Store,  218. 

Revere  House,  166. 

"  Review,  The  ",  Mrs.  Vincent's 
debut  in,  45. 

Rich  and  Harris,  166. 

Richard  Mansfield  Company, 
114. 

Richardson,  Judge,  59. 

Richings,  Caroline,  7. 

Richings,  Peter,  7. 

Rigl  Sisters,  The,  93. 

Ring,  Blanche,  133,  173,  177, 
206. 

Ring,  J.  H.,  22,  50;  at  Na- 
tional Theater,  124;  joins 
Museum  Company,  124; 
visits  England,  125;  ex- 
perience abroad,  125,  126; 
popularity  of,  129;  friend- 
ship with  O'Reilly,  131; 
his  home,  131,  132;  man- 
ner with  visiting  actors, 
133;  death  of,  135;  144, 
177. 

Ring,  Mrs.,  J.  H.,  124. 

"Rivals,  The",  Warren's  first 
appearance  in  Boston  in, 
26. 

Roberts,  Sir  Randal,  107. 


260 


INDEX 


Robertson,  Agnes,  7. 

Robins,  Elizabeth,  218,  219. 

Robinson,  Forrest,  206. 

Robson,  May,  76. 

Rogers,  Genevieve,  140. 

Rose,  Edward  E.,  206. 

Ross,  Thomas  W.,  173,  176. 

Russell,  Henry  S.,  74,  75. 

Russell,  Sol  Smith,  200-202,  206. 

Ryan,  Kate,  birth  of,  9;  first 
experiences  at  Boston  Mu- 
seum, 10-24;  her  debut, 
17,  18;  first  stage  gown, 
18;  page  in  "Richard 
III",  20;  with  Warren  in 
"The  Silver  Spoon",  30- 
33 ;  scene  with  Warren 
in  "My  Son",  34;  as 
Lady  Sneerzvell  at  Warren 
jubilee,  42;  experiences  on 
the  road,  48-51  ;  Sothern's 
jokes  on,  55,  56;  tribute  to 
Mrs.  Vincent,  61,  62;  to 
Annie  Clarke,  72,  73 ; 
absence  from  Clarke  testi- 
monial, 76;  with  Lewis 
Morrison,  76;  in  scene 
with  Charles  Barron,  86; 
later  experiences,  91-116; 
an  amusing  incident,  91, 
92;  her  first  part,  92; 
dancing  ambitions,  93,  94; 
marriage,  96;  souvenir  of 
the  old  elm,  96,  97;  home 
on  old  Mill  Dam,  105; 
happy  married  life,  105- 
110;  death  of  husband, 
no;  a  war  incident  112; 
impressions  of  George   \\ 


Wilson,  117-121;  recol- 
lections of  J.  H.  Ring,  124- 
135;  "Pinafore"  days, 
1 58-161  ;  an  awkward  in- 
cident, 162,  163  ;  famous 
stars,  173-204;  in  musical 
comedy  with  Sothern,  174, 
175;  recollections  of  the 
greenroom,  177-180;  an 
incident  with  Doctor 
Holmes,  179;  acquaint- 
ance with  Edwin  Booth, 
182-184;  a  difficult  part 
at  short  notice,  188-190; 
an  engagement  with  Mans- 
field, 192,  193  ;  summer  in 
New  York,  193  ;  amusing 
experiences,  194;  a  trying 
scene  with  Janauschek, 
195 ;  acquaintance  with 
Sol  Smith  Russell,  200- 
202  ;  the  decade  1883-1893, 
206-238;  trials  of  a  stage 
manager,  208-211 ;  trip  to 
Europe,  226;  the  stay  in 
England,  227-231;  amus- 
ing meeting  with  Dixey, 
230;  return  home,  232; 
reflections  on  the  passing 
of  the  Museum,  238;  ap- 
prenticeship at  the  Mu- 
seum, 240;  rigid  and  just 
discipline  enforced,  240, 
241  ;  etiquette  observed 
by  members,  241,  242; 
long  terms  of  service,  243  ; 
days  of  hard  work,  244; 
fascinations  of  stage  life, 
244,    245 ;    extra    perform- 


26l 


INDEX 


Ryan,  Kate,  continued, 

ances,  245  ;  the  Saturday- 
night  bills,  245,  246;  the 
gallery  gods,  246;  first 
contract,  246,  247;  modest 
salaries,  247,  248 ;  reflec- 
tions on  the  stage  life  and 
profession,  248,  249;  the 
stage  what  the  public 
makes  it,  249,  250;  fond 
memories,  250. 

St.  Joseph's  Church,  105. 

Salsbury,  Nate,  22,  95,  1 1 1,  144. 

Salvini,  Alexander,  76. 

Saunders,  C.  H.,  5. 

Schiller,  George  A.,  221. 

Selwyn's   Stock  Company,  67, 
68. 

Seymour,  William,  76,  207-211. 

Seymour,  Mrs.  William.  See 
May  Davenport. 

Shannon,  Joe,  107. 

Shaw,  Evelyn  ("Peggy"),  212. 

Shaw,  Mary,  76,  77,  211,  212. 

Shaw,  Robert  Gould,  viii. 

Sheridan,  Emma  V.,  224,  225. 

Sheridan,  W.  E.,  114. 

Shewell,  L.  R.,  7,  82,  150,  151. 

"Shore  Acres",  last  play  pre- 
sented at  the  Museum,  238. 

Sixteenth  Massachusetts  In- 
fantry, 150. 

Skerritt,  Fanny,  22. 

Skerritt,  Rose,  7. 

Smith,  Dexter,  144. 

Smith,  J.  A.,  22,  122-124;  long 
service  with  Museum  Com- 
pany, 124;  last  days,  124. 


Smith,  William  H.,  5,  149,  178, 
236. 

Sothern  Company,  121. 

Sothern,  Edward  A.,  53  ;  prac- 
tical jokes  of,  54-56 ;  kind- 
ness of,  57,  59. 

Sothern,  E.  H.,  173-176. 

"  Sothern  Fund,  The  ",  57. 

Standish,  Helen,  232. 

Stevenson,  Charles,  98. 

Stinson,  Fred,  166. 

Stinson,  Mrs.  Fred.  See  Sadie 
Martinot. 

Stirling,  Mrs.  229. 

Stock  Company,  first  Boston 
Museum,  5 ;  Kate  Ryan 
joins,  17;  in  1872,  22,  23  ; 
William  Warren  joins,  27; 
Mrs.  Vincent  a  member, 
46;  experiences  on  the 
road,        48-51;  Annie 

Clarke  joins,  64;  loyalty 
of,  to  management,  67,  68 ; 
testimonial  to  Annie 
Clarke,  77;  Charles  Bar- 
ron, 81  ;  George  W.  Wil- 
son, 117;  J.  H.  Ring,  124; 
James  Burrows,  150;  mem- 
bers, 1 883-1 893,  206,  207; 
"Shore  Acres"  last  play 
presented  by,  238;  its  in- 
fluence for  good,  239;  its 
repertoire,  239;  discipline 
and  etiquette  of,  239-242; 
length  of  service  in,  243  ; 
hard  work  of,  244;  extra 
performances  by,  245 ; 
salaries  of,  247,  248. 
Stoddart,  J.  H.,  187. 


262 


INDEX 


Sullivan,  Barry,  7. 
Sullivan,  Joe,  114,  115. 
Sullivan,  Thomas    Russell,  41, 

179,  246. 
Sullivan's  Drug  Store,  217. 
Sydney,  Fred,  206,  232. 

Temple,  Bessie,  159. 
Temple,  Rose,  159. 
Terry,  Ellen,  229. 
Thonian,  Mr.,  5. 
Thoman,  Mrs.,  5. 
Thompson,  Blanche,  206. 
Thompson,  Charlotte,  7. 
Tremont  House,  217. 
Tressel,  Edwin's  Booth's  debut 

as,  7. 
Trinity  Church,  43. 
Tyler,  Georgia,  140,  221,  222. 

Vandenhoff,  George,  7. 

Vanderfelt,  E.  H.,  206,  214. 

Vaudeville,  Americanized  at 
Boston  Museum,  3. 

Vincent  Hospital  for  Women, 
62. 

Vincent,  J.  R.,  45,  46,  124. 

Vincent,  Mrs.  J.  R.,  11,  22,  24; 
personality  of,  44;  popu- 
larity of,  44;  birth  of,  4^  ; 
debut  in  "The  Review", 
45;  marriage,  45;  early 
experiences,  45;  arrival  in 
America,  45  ;  first  Boston 
appearance,  46;  joins  Mu- 
seum Company,  46;  long 
service  with,  46;  with 
Edwin  Forrest,  46;  second 
marriage,     46;      domestic 


traits,  47,  48;  experiences 
on  the  road,  48-51 ;  her 
fear  of  rats  and  mice,  51, 
52;  friendship        with 

Sothern,  53—57 ;  the 
"Sothern  Fund",  57;  cos- 
tumes Harvard  plays,  57; 
her  collections,  57;  love  of 
animals,  58;  fiftieth  anni- 
versary as  an  actress,  59, 
60;  her  versatility,  60, 
61 ;  honored  by  Forrest, 
61 ;  her  last  part,  61  ; 
death,  61  ;  63,  64,  123,  124, 
223,  232,  246. 
Vinton,  Frederick  P.,  37,  40. 

Wade,  Edward,  206. 

Wainwright,  Marie,  159. 

Wallace,  J.  J.,  115. 

Wallack,  James  W.,  7. 

Wallack,  Lester,  39,  197,  198. 

Wallack's  Theater,  89. 

Waller,  Mr.,  7. 

Waller,  Mrs.,  7. 

Warren,  William,  22,  24;  ver- 
satility of,  25 ;  birth  of, 
26;  first  appearance  in 
Boston,  26;  joins  Mu- 
seum Company,  27;  long 
service  of,  27;  forms 
\\  ;u Tcn-(  )rton  Combina- 
tion, 27;  returns  to  Mu- 
seum, 27,  28;  success  in 
farces,  29;  Kate  Ryan  in 
scene  with,  31-33;  home 
of,  35,  36;  golden  jubilee 
of,  36-42;  portrait  and 
bust  of,  37;  loving-cup  to, 


263 


INDEX 

Warren,  William,  continued,  Williams,  Fred,  21,  22,  68,  92, 

40;    letter  to  Stock  Com-  101,  103. 

pany,  41 ;   his  acting  at  his  Williams,  Mrs.  Fred,  22,  101. 

jubilee,    41 ;     his    last    im-  Williams,  Fritz,  101,  102. 

personation  as  Old  Eccles,  Williams,    Miss    (Aunt    Belle), 

42;      retirement     of,     42;  101. 

last  years  of,  43  ;    death,  Williams,  Sallie,  102. 

43;  48,  50,  51,  63,  64,  70,  Wilson,  George  W.,    50;  joins 

72,  102,  127,  128,  144-146,  Museum    Company,    117; 

153,170,171,202,203,235.  success    in    comedy,     118, 

Warren-Orton       Combination,  119;    with   Sothern   Com- 

the,  27;    members  of,  28.  pany,  121;    loyalty  to  the 

Watkins,  Miss,  22.  Museum,  121;  155,  232. 

Wax    Gallery    of    the    Boston  Wilson,  H.  N.,  22. 

Museum,  15,  239.  Wilson,  John,  7,  46. 

Weathersby,  Eliza,  231.  Winter,  William,  40. 

Weathersby  Family,  the,  231.  Wood,  Ella  Hugh,  207. 

West,  Beverly,  90.  Wright,  Josie,  22. 

Whitman,  Mr.,  109.  Wyeth,  G.  H.,  5. 

Whytal,  Russ,  206.  Wyndham,  Charles,  114. 


264 


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